HIS  MAJESTY'S 
WELL-BELOVED 

Baroness  Orczy 


ia 


HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 
BARONESS    ORCZY 


By   BARONESS   ORCZY 


His  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 
THE  LEAGUE  OF  THE  SCARLET 

PIMPERNEL 
FLOWER  o*  THE  LILY 
THE  MAN  IN  GREY 
LORD  TONY'S  WIFE 
A  SHEAF  OF  BLUEBELLS 
LEATHERFACE 
THE  BRONZE  EAGLE 
A  BRIDE  OF  THE  PLAINS 
THE  LAUGHING  CAVALIER 
"  UNTO  C^SAR  " 
EL  DORADO 
MEADOWSWEET 
THE  NOBLE  ROGUE 
THE  HEART  OF  A  WOMAN 
PETTICOAT  RULE 


GEORGE   H.    DORAN    COMPANY 
NEW  YO  RK 


HIS  MAJESTY'S 
WELL-BELOVED 

AN  EPISODE  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  MR. 
THOMAS  BETTERTON  AS  TOLD  BY 
HIS  FRIEND  JOHN  HONEYWOOD 

BY 

BARONESS  ORCZY 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  LEAGUE  OF  THE  SCARLET 

PIMPERNEL,"   "FLOWER    O*    THE    LILY," 

"LORD  TONY'S  WIFE,"  ETC. 


NEW  SJ1>>  YORK 
GEORGE  H.   DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  zp/p, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Stack  ^ 

Ann^x         6*  0  >  / 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  FACE 

I  How  IT  ALL  BEGAN    .....        9 

II  THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE  .       .       .26 

III  A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY 45 

IV  MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       .       .      68 
V    THE  OUTRAGE 105 

VI  THE  GATHERING  STORM     .       .       .       .     118 

VII  AN  ASSEMBLY  OF  TRAITORS      .       .       .141 

VIII    THE  LION'S  WRATH 151 

IX    A  LAST  CHANCE 169 

X  THE  HOUR   .......     182 

XI  RUMOURS  AND  CONJECTURES     .       .       .195 

XII  POISONED  ARROWS       ......     207 

XIII  THE  LADY  PLEADS 233 

XIV  THE  RULING  PASSION       ....     254 
XV  MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS      .       .       .    269 

XVI  THE  GAME  OF  LOVE  .....    303 


HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 


HIS     MAJESTY'S 
WELL-BELOVED 


CHAPTER  I 
How  IT  ALL  BEGAN 


From  Mr.  John  Honeywood,  clerk  to  Mr.  Theo- 
philus  Baggs,  attorney-at-lcrw,  to  Mistress 
Mary  Saunderson,  of  the  Duke's  Theatre-,  in 
Lincoln's  Inn  Fields. 

1662.  October  the  loth  at  85,  Chancery  Lane  in 
the  City  of  London.  Honoured  Mistress, — 

May  it  please  you  that  I,  an  humble  Clerk  and 
Scrivener,  do  venture  to  address  so  talented  a  Lady ; 
but  there  is  that  upon  my  Conscience  which  compels 
me  to  write  these  lines.  The  Goodness  and  Charity 
of  Mistress  Saunderson  are  well  known,  and  'tis  not 
as  a  Suppliant  that  I  crave  pardon  for  my  Pre- 
sumption, but  rather  as  one  whose  fidelity  and  loy- 
alty have  oft  been  tried  and  never  been  found  want- 
ing. 'Tis  said,  most  gracious  Mistress,  that  your 
fancy  hath  been  touched  by  the  tenderness  and 
devotion  of  a  Man  who  is  as  dear  to  me  as  if  he 

9 


10        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

were  mine  own  Brother,  but  that  You  hesitate  to 
bestow  upon  him  that  for  which  he  craves  more  than 
for  anything  in  the  world,  your  Hand  and  Heart. 
And  this  because  of  many  Rumours  which  have 
sullied  his  fair  Name.  Mr.  Betterton,  Madam,  hath 
many  enemies.  How  could  this  be  otherwise  seeing 
that  so  vast  a  measure  of  Success  hath  attended  his 
career,  and  that  the  King's  most  gracious  Majesty 
doth  honour  him  with  Friendship  and  Regard  to  the 
exclusion  of  others  who  are  envious  of  so  great  a 
fame?  Those  Enemies  now,  Madam,  seeing  that 
your  Heart  hath  been  touched  with  the  man's  grace 
and  bearing,  rather  than  with  his  undying  Renown, 
have  set  themselves  the  task  of  blackening  Mr. 
Betterton's  character  before  your  eyes,  thus  causing 
you  mayhap  grievous  Sorrow  and  Disappointment. 
But  this  I  do  swear  by  all  that  I  hold  most  sacred, 
that  Mr.  Betterton  hath  never  committed  a  mean 
Act  in  his  life  nor  done  aught  to  forfeit  your 
Regard.  Caustic  of  wit  he  is,  but  neither  a  Brag- 
gart nor  a  Bully;  he  hath  been  credited  with  many 
good  Fortunes,  but  so  hath  every  Gentleman  in  the 
Kingdom,  and  there  is  no  discredit  attached  to  a 
man  for  subjugating  the  Hearts  of  those  that  are 
both  frail  and  fair.  My  Lady  Castlemaine  hath 
bestowed  many  favours  on  Mr.  Betterton,  so  hath 
the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury,  and  there  are  others, 
at  least  the  Gossips  do  aver  it.  But  on  my  Soul  and 
Honour,  he  hath  never  ceased  to  love  You,  until  the 
day  when  a  certain  great  Lady  came  across  his  path 
for  his  misfortune  and  his  undying  Regret.  And 


HOW  IT  ALL  BEGAN  11 

even  so,  Madam,  though  appearances  are  against 
him,  I  own,  let  me  assure  You  that  the  swerving  of 
his  Allegiance  to  You  was  not  only  transitory  but 
it  was  never  one  of  the  Heart — it  was  a  mere  aber- 
ration of  the  senses.  He  may  never  forget  the  Lady 
— he  certainly  will  never  forget  her  Cruelty — but  he 
no  longer  loves  Her,  never  did  love  Her  as  he  loves 
You,  with  his  Heart  and  Mind,  with  Tenderness  and 
Devotion.  The  other  was  only  a  Dream — a  fitful 
fancy:  his  Love  for  You  is  as  immortal  as  his 
Fame.  Therefore,  gracious  Mistress,  I,  the  humble 
Friend  of  so  great  a  Man,  have  ventured  to  set  forth 
for  your  perusal  that  which  he  himself  would  be 
too  proud  to  put  before  you — namely,  his  Justifi- 
cation. As  for  the  rest,  what  I  am  about  to  relate 
is  the  true  Historic  of  Mr.  Betterton's  Romance,  the 
only  one  which  might  give  you  cause  for  sorrow, 
yet  none  for  uneasiness,  because  that  Romance  is 
now  a  thing  of  the  past,  like  unto  a  Flower  that  is 
faded  and  without  fragrance,  even  though  it  still  lies 
pressed  between  the  pages  of  a  great  man's  Book 
of  Life.  Everything  else  is  mere  Episode.  But  this 
which  I  have  here  set  down  will  show  you  how  much 
nobility  of  heart  and  grandeur  of  Character  lies 
hidden  beneath  the  flippant  and  at  times  grim  ex- 
terior of  the  Man  whom  you  have  honoured  with 
your  regard. 

The  writing  of  the  Historic  hath  caused  me  much 
anxiety  and  deep  thought.  I  desired  to  present  the 
Truth  before  you,  and  not  the  highly-coloured  ef- 
fusions of  a  Partisan.  I  have  slurred  over  nothing, 


12       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

concealed  nothing.  An  you,  gracious  Mistress, 
have  the  patience  to  read  unto  the  End,  I  am  con- 
fident that  any  Hesitation  as  to  your  Future  which 
may  still  linger  in  your  Heart  will  vanish  with  the 
more  intimate  Knowledge  of  the  true  Facts  of  the 
case,  as  well  as  of  the  Man  whose  faults  are  of  his 
own  Time  and  of  his  Entourage,  but  whose  Merits 
are  for  the  whole  World  to  know  and  to  cherish,  for 
as  many  Cycles  of  years  as  there  will  be  English- 
men to  speak  the  Words  of  English  Poets. 


Dare  I  take  you  back,  honoured  Mistress,  to  those 
humble  days,  five  years  ago,  when  first  I  entered  the 
Household  of  your  worthy  Uncle,  Mr.  Theophilus 
Baggs,  and  of  his  still  more  worthy  Spouse,  Mistress 
Euphrosine,  where  for  a  small — very  small — stipend, 
and  free  board  and  lodging,  I  copied  legal  docu- 
ments, Leases,  Wills  and  Indentures  for  my 
Employer? 

You,  fair  Lady,  were  then  the  only  ray  of  Sun- 
shine which  illumined  the  darkness  of  my  dreary 
Life.  Yours  was  a  Gaiety  which  nothing  could 
damp,  a  Courage  and  Vitality  which  not  even  the 
nagging  disposition  of  Mistress  Euphrosine  suc- 
ceeded in  crushing.  And  when,  smarting  under  her 
many  Chidings,  my  stomach  craving  for  a  small 
Measure  of  satisfaction,  my  Bones  aching  from  the 
hardness  of  my  bed,  I  saw  your  slim  Figure  flitting, 
elf-like,  from  kitchen  to  living-room,  your  full 
young  Throat  bursting  with  song  like  that  of  a  Bird 


HOW  IT  ALL  BEGAN  13 

at  the  first  scent  of  Spring,  I  would  find  my  lot  less 
hard,  the  bread  less  sour,  even  Mistress  Euphrosine's 
tongue  less  acrimonious.  My  poor,  atrophied  Heart 
felt  the  warmth  of  your  Smile. 

Then  sometimes,  when  my  Work  was  done  and 
my  Employers  occupied  with  their  own  affairs,  You 
used  to  allow  me  to  be  of  service  to  you,  to  help 
you  wash  the  dishes  which  your  dainty  Hands 
should  never  have  been  allowed  to  touch. 

Oh!  how  I  writhed  when  I  heard  Mistress 
Euphrosine  ordering  You  about  as  if  You  were  a 
kitchen-wench,  rather  than  her  husband's  Niece, 
who  was  honouring  his  House  with  your  presence! 
You,  so  exquisite,  so  perfect,  so  cultured,  to  be  the 
Handmaid  of  a  pair  of  sour,  ill-conditioned  Repro- 
bates who  were  not  worthy  to  tie  the  lacets  of  your 
dainty  shoes.  With  what  Joy  I  performed  the 
menial  tasks  which  never  should  have  been  allotted 
to  You,  I  never  until  now  have  dared  to  tell.  I  did 
not  think  that  any  Man  could  find  dish-washing  and 
floor-scrubbing  quite  so  enchanting.  But  then  no 
other  Man  hath  ever  to  my  knowledge  performed 
such  tasks  under  such  happy  circumstances;  with 
You  standing  before  me,  smiling  and  laughing  at 
my  clumsiness,  your  shapely  arms  akimbo,  your 
Voice  now  rippling  into  Song,  now  chaffing  me 
with  Words  full  of  kindness  and  good-humour. 

I  have  known  many  happy  Hours  since  that  Day, 
Mistress,  and  many  Hours  full  of  Sorrow,  but  none 
so  full  of  pulsating  Life  as  those  which  outwardly 
had  seemed  so  miserable. 


14.       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

And  then  that  wonderful  afternoon  when  Mr. 
Theophilus  Baggs  and  his  Spouse  being  safely  out 
of  the  way,  we  stole  out  together  and  spent  a  few 
hours  at  the  Play!  Do  you  remember  the  day  on 
which  we  ventured  on  the  Escapade?  Mr.  Baggs 
and  Mistress  Euphrosine  had  gone  to  Hampton 
Court:  he  to  see  a  noble  Client  and  she  to  accom- 
pany him.  The  day  being  fine  and  the  Client  being 
a  Lady  possessed  of  well-known  charms,  Mistress 
Euphrosine  would  not  have  trusted  her  Lord  alone 
in  the  company  of  such  a  forward  Minx — at  least, 
those  were  her  Words,  which  she  uttered  in  my 
hearing  two  Days  before  the  memorable  Expedition. 

Memorable,  indeed,  it  was  to  me! 

Mr.  Baggs  left  a  sheaf  of  Documents  for  me  to 
copy,  which  would — he  thought — keep  me  occupied 
during  the  whole  course  of  a  long  Day.  You  too, 
fair  Mistress,  were  to  be  kept  busy  during  the 
worthy  couple's  absence,  by  scrubbing  and  polishing 
and  sewing — Mistress  Euphrosine  holding  all  idle- 
ness in  abhorrence. 

I  marvel  if  you  remember  it  all ! 

I  do,  as  if  it  had  occurred  yesterday!  We  sat 
up  half  the  Night  previous  to  our  Taskmasters'  de- 
parture; you  polishing  and  sewing,  and  I  copying 
away  for  very  life.  You  remember?  Our  joint 
Savings  for  the  past  six  Months  we  had  counted  up 
together.  They  amounted  to  three  shillings.  One 
shilling  we  spent  in  oil  for  our  lamps,  so  that  we 
might  complete  our  Tasks  during  the  Night.  This 
left  us  free  for  the  great  and  glorious  Purpose 


HOW  IT  ALL  BEGAN  15 

which  we  had  in  our  Minds  and  which  we  had 
planned  and  brooded  over  for  Days  and  Weeks. 

We  meant  to  go  to  the  Play ! 

It  seems  strange  now,  in  view  of  your  Renown, 
fair  Mistress,  and  of  mine  own  intimacy  with 
Mr.  Betterton,  that  You  and  I  had  both  reached 
an  age  of  Man  and  Womanhood  without  ever  hav- 
ing been  to  the  Play.  Yet  You  belonged  from 
childhood  to  the  household  of  Mistress  Euphrosine 
Baggs,  who  is  own  sister  to  Mr.  Betterton.  But 
that  worthy  Woman  abhorred  the  Stage  and  all  that 
pertained  to  it,  and  she  blushed — aye,  blushed! — at 
thought  of  the  marvellous  Fame  attained  by  her 
illustrious  Brother. 

Do  you  remember  confiding  to  me,  less  than  a 
month  after  I  first  entered  the  household  of  Mr. 
Baggs,  that  You  were  pining  to  go  to  the  Play? 
You  had  seen  Mr.  Betterton  once  or  twice  when  he 
came  to  visit  his  Sister — which  he  did  not  do  very 
often — but  you  had  never  actually  been  made  ac- 
quainted with  him,  nor  had  you  ever  seen  him  act. 
And  You  told  me  how  handsome  he  was,  and  how 
distinguished ;  and  your  dark  Eyes  would  flash  with 
enthusiasm  at  thought  of  the  Actor's  Art  and  of 
the  Actor's  Power. 

I  had  never  seen  him  at  all  in  those  Days,  but 
I  loved  to  hear  about  him.  Strange  what  a  fas- 
cination the  Stage  exercised  over  so  insignificant 
and  so  mean  a  creature  as  I ! 


16       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

3 

Will  you  ever  forget  the  dawn  of  that  glorious 
Day,  fair  Mistress? 

Mr.  Baggs  and  his  Spouse  went  off  quite  early, 
to  catch  the  chaise  at  La  Belle  Sauvage  which  would 
take  them  to  Hampton  Court.  But  however  early 
they  went,  we  thought  them  mighty  slow  in  making 
a  start.  An  hundred  Recommendations,  Orderings, 
Scoldings,  had  to  be  gone  through  ere  the  respect- 
able Couple,  carrying  provisions  for  the  day  in  a 
Bandana  Handkerchief,  finally  got  on  the  way. 

It  was  a  perfect  Morning  early  in  March,  with 
the  first  scent  and  feel  of  Spring  in  the  air.  Not 
a  Cloud  in  the  Sky.  By  Midday  our  tasks  were 
entirely  accomplished  and  we  were  free!  Free  as 
the  Birds  in  the  air,  free  as  two  'prentices  out  for 
a  holiday !  But  little  did  we  eat,  I  remember.  We 
were  too  excited  for  hunger;  nor  had  Mistress 
Euphrosine  left  much  in  the  larder  for  us.  What 
did  we  care  ?  Our  Enthusiasm,  our  Eagerness,  were 
Cook  and  Scullion  for  us,  that  day ! 

We  were  going  to  the  Play ! 

Oh !  how  we  tripped  to  Cockpit  Lane,  asking  our 
way  from  passers-by,  for  we  knew  so  little  of 
London — fashionable  London,  that  is;  the  London 
of  Gaiety  and  Laughter,  of  careless  Thoughts  and 
wayward  Moods.  Holding  hands,  we  hurried 
through  the  Streets.  You  wore  a  dark  Cape  with 
a  Hood  to  hide  your  pretty  Face  and  your  soft 
brown  Hair,  lest  some  Acquaintance»of  youHJncle's 


HOW  IT  ALL  BEGAN  17 

should  chance  to  see  You  and  betray  our  guilty 
secret. 

Do  you  remember  how  we  met  Mr.  Rhodes,  the 
bookseller,  and  friend  of  Mr.  Baggs? — he  to  whom 
young  Mr.  Betterton  was  even  then  apprenticed. 
At  the  corner  of  Princes  Street  we  came  nose  to 
nose  with  him,  and  but  for  great  presence  of  mind 
on  my  part  when,  without  an  instant's  hesitation,  I 
ran  straight  at  him  and  butted  him  in  the  Stomach 
so  that  he  lost  his  Balance  for  the  moment  and  only 
recovered  complete  Consciousness  after  we  had  dis- 
appeared round  the  corner  of  the  Street,  he  no 
doubt  would  have  recognised  us  and  betrayed  our 
naughty  Secret. 

Oh,  what  a  fright  we  had !  I  can  see  You  now, 
leaning,  breathless  and  panting,  against  the  street 
corner,  your  Hand  pressed  to  your  Bosom,  your 
Eyes  shining  like  Stars ! 

As  for  the  rest,  it  is  all  confusion  in  my  mind, 
The  Crowd,  the  Bustle,  the  Noise,  this  great  As- 
sembly, the  like  of  which  I  had  never  seen  before. 
I  do  not  know  how  we  came  to  our  seats.  All  I 
know  is  that  we  were  there,  looking  down  upon  the 
moving  throng.  I  remember  that  some  Worthy  of 
obvious  note  was  sitting  next  to  me,  and  was  per- 
petually treading  upon  my  toes.  But  this  I  did  not 
mind,  for  he  was  good  enough  to  point  out  to  me 
the  various  Notabilities  amongst  the  Audience  or 
upon  the  Stage;  and  I  was  greatly  marvelled  and 
awed  by  the  wonderful  familiarity  with  which  he 
spoke  of  all  these  distinguished  People. 


18       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  There  sits  General  Monk.  Brave  old  George ! 
By  gad!  'twere  interesting  to  know  what  goes  on 
inside  that  square  Head  of  his !  King  or  Protector, 
which  is  it  to  be?  Or  Protector  and  King! 
George  knows ;  and  you  mark  my  words,  young  Sir, 
George  will  be  the  one  to  decide.  Old  Noll  is  sick; 
he  can't  last  long.  And  Master  Richard  hath  not 
much  affection  for  his  Father's  Friends — calls  them 
Reprobates  and  ungodly.  Well !  can  you  see  George 
being  rebuked  by  Master  Richard  for  going  to  the 
Play?" 

And  I,  not  being  on  such  intimate  terms  with  the 
Lord  Protector's  Son  or  with  General  Monk,  could 
offer  no  opinion  on  the  subject.  And  after  a  while 
my  Neighbour  went  on  glibly : 

"  Ah !  here  comes  my  Lady  Viner,  flaunting  silks 
and  satins.  Aye,  the  fair  Alice — his  third  Wife, 
mark  you! — knows  how  to  spend  the  money  which 
her  Lord  hath  been  at  such  pains  to  scrape  together. 
By  gad !  who'd  have  thought  to  see  red-haired  Polly 
Ann  so  soon  after  the  demise  of  His  Grace!  See, 
not  an  inch  of  widows'  Weeds  doth  she  wear  in 
honour  of  the  old  Dotard  who  did  her  the  infinite 
favour  of  dying  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  ..." 

And  so  on,  the  Man  would  babble  in  a  continuous 
stream  of  talk.  You,  Mistress,  listened  to  him 
open-mouthed,  your  great  brown  Eyes  aglow  with 
curiosity  and  with  excitement.  You  and  I  knew 
but  little  of  those  great  Folk,  and  seeing  them  all 
around  us,  prepared  for  the  same  enjoyment  which 


HOW  IT  ALL  BEGAN  19 

we  had  paid  to  obtain,  made  us  quite  intoxicated 
with  eagerness. 

Our  Neighbour,  who  of  a  truth  seemed  to  know 
everything,  expressed  great  surprise  at  the  fact  that 
Old  Noll — as  he  so  unceremoniously  named  the 
Lord  Protector — had  tolerated  the  opening  of  the 
Cockpit.  "  But,"  he  added  sententiously,  "  Bill 
t)avenant  could  wheedle  a  block  of  ice  out  of  the 
devil,  if  he  chose." 

4 

Of  the  Play  I  remember  but  little.  I  was  in  truth 
much  too  excited  to  take  it  all  in.  And  sitting  so 
near  You,  Mistress — for  the  Place  was  over- 
crowded— my  Knee  touching  yours,  your  dear  little 
hand  darting  out  from  time  to  time  to  grip  mine 
convulsively  during  the  more  palpitating  moments 
of  the  Entertainment,  was  quite  as  much  as  an 
humble  Clerk's  brain  could  hold. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  Music — that  I  do 
remember.  Also  that  the  entertainment  was  termed 
an  opera  and  that  the  name  of  the  piece  was  "  The 
Cruelty  of  the  Spaniards  in  Peru."  My  omniscient 
Neighbour  told  me  presently  that  no  doubt  the  Per- 
formance was  an  artful  piece  of  Flattery  on  the  part 
of  Bill  (meaning,  I  suppose,  Sir  William  Davenant) 
who,  by  blackening  the  Spaniards,  made  Old  Noll's 
tyranny  appear  like  bountiful  Mercies. 

But  I  did  not  like  to  hear  our  Lord  Protector 
spoken  of  with  such  levity.  Moreover,  my  Neigh- 


20       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

hour's  incessant  Chatter  distracted  me  from  the 
Stage. 

What  I  do  remember  more  vividly  than  anything 
else  on  that  memorable  Day  was  your  cry  of 
delight  when  Mr.  Betterton  appeared  upon  the 
Stage.  I  do  not  know  if  you  had  actually  spoken 
with  him  before;  I  certainly  had  never  even  seen 
him.  Mr.  Betterton  was  then  apprenticed  to  Mr. 
Rhodes,  the  Bookseller,  and  it  was  entirely  against 
the  Judgment  and  Wishes  of  Mistress  Euphrosine 
Baggs,  his  Sister,  that  he  adopted  the  Stage  as  an 
additional  calling.  I  know  that  there  were  many 
high  Words  on  that  subject  between  Mr.  Betterton 
and  Mistress  Euphrosine,  Mr.  Rhodes  greatly  sup- 
porting the  young  Man  in  his  Desire,  he  having 
already  formulated  schemes  of  his  own  for  the  man- 
agement of  a  Theatre,  and  extolling  the  virtues  of 
the  Actor's  Art  and  the  vastly  lucrative  State 
thereof. 

But  Mistress  Euphrosine  would  have  none  of  it. 
Actors  were  Rogues  and  Vagabonds,  she  said,  un- 
godly Reprobates  who  were  unfit,  when  dead,  to  be 
buried  in  consecrated  ground.  She  would  never 
consent  to  seeing  a  Brother  of  hers  follow  so  dis- 
reputable a  Calling.  From  high  words  it  came  to 
an  open  Quarrel,  and  though  I  had  been  over  a  year 
in  the  House  of  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs,  I  had  never 
until  this  day  set  eyes  on  young  Mr.  Betterton. 

He  was  not  taking  a  very  important  part  in  the 
Opera,  but  there  was  no  denying  the  fact  that  as 
soon  as  he  appeared  upon  the  Stage  his  very  Pres- 


HOW  IT  ALL  BEGAN  21 

ence  did  throw  every  other  Actor  into  the  shade, 
The  Ladies  in  the  Boxes  gave  a  deep  sigh  of  content, 
gazing  on  him  with  admiring  eyes  and  bestowing 
loud  Applause  upon  his  every  Word.  And  when 
Mr.  Betterton  threw  out  his  Arms  with  a  gesture 
expressive  of  a  noble  Passion  and  spoke  the  ringing 
lines :  "  And  tell  me  then,  ye  Sons  of  England  ..." 
— his  beautiful  Voice  rising  and  falling  with  the  per- 
fect cadence  of  an  exquisite  Harmony — the  uproar 
of  Enthusiasm  became  wellnigh  deafening.  The 
Ladies  clapped  their  Hands  and  waved  their  Hand- 
kerchiefs, the  Gentlemen  stamped  their  feet  upon  the 
floor;  and  some,  lifting  their  Hats,  threw  them  with 
a  flourish  upon  the  Stage,  so  that  anon  Mr.  Better- 
ton  stood  with  a  score  or  more  Hats  all  round  his 
feet,  and  was  greatly  perturbed  as  to  how  he  should 
sort  them  out  and  restore  them  to  their  rightful 
Owners. 

Ah,  it  was  a  glorious  Day!  Nothing  could  mar 
the  perfection  of  its  Course.  No!  not  even  the 
Rain  which  presently  began  to  patter  over  the  Spec- 
tators, and  anon  fell  in  torrents,  so  that  those  who 
were  in  the  Pit  had  to  beat  a  precipitate  retreat, 
scrambling  helter-skelter  over  the  Benches  in  a  wild 
endeavour  to  get  under  cover. 

This  incident  somewhat  marred  the  Harmony  of 
the  Ending,  because  to  see  Ladies  and  Gentlemen 
struggling  and  scrambling  to  climb  from  bench  to 
bench  under  a  Deluge  of  Rain,  was  in  truth  a  very 
droll  Spectacle;  and  the  attention  of  those  in  the 
Boxes  was  divided  between  the  Happenings  on 


22       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

the    Stage    and    the    antics    of    the    rest    of    the 
Audience. 

You  and  I,  fair  Mistress,  up  aloft  in  our  humble 
place,  were  far  better  sheltered  than  the  more  grand 
Folk  in  the  Pit.  I  put  your  Cloak  around  your 
Shoulders  to  protect  You  against  the  Cold,  and  thus 
sitting  close  together,  my  knee  still  resting  against 
yours,  we  watched  the  Performance  until  the  end. 

5 

How  we  went  home  that  afternoon  I  do  not 
remember.  I  know  that  it  was  raining  heavily  and 
that  we  got  very  wet.  But  this  caused  me  no 
Inconvenience,  because  it  gave  me  the  privilege  of 
placing  my  Arm  round  your  Shoulders  so  as  to  keep 
your  Cloak  from  falling.  Also  my  Mind  was  too 
full  of  what  I  had  seen  to  heed  the  paltry  discom- 
fort of  a  Wetting.  My  thoughts  were  of  the  Play, 
the  Music,  the  brilliant  Assembly;  yours,  Mistress, 
were  of  Mr.  Betterton.  Of  him  you  prattled  all 
the  way  home,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  Topic. 
And  if  your  enthusiastic  Eulogy  of  that  talented 
Person  did  at  times  send  a  pang  of  Sorrow  through 
my  Heart,  You  at  least  were  unaware  of  my 
Trouble.  Not  that  I  took  no  share  in  your  En- 
thusiasm. I  did  it  whole-heartedly.  Never  had  I 
admired  a  Man  before  as  I  did  Mr.  Betterton  on 
that  Day.  His  Presence  was  commanding,  his  Face 
striking,  his  Voice  at  times  masterful  and  full  of 
Power,  at  others  infinitely  sweet.  My  officious  and 
talkative  Neighbour,  just  before  the  Rain  came 


HOW  IT  ALL  BEGAN  23 

down  and  rendered  him  dumb,  had  remarked  to  me 
with  a  great  air  of  Knowledge  and  of  Finality: 
"Mark  my  word,  young  Sir,  England  will  hear 
something  presently  of  Tommy  Betterton." 

It  was  not  until  we  reached  the  corner  of  Chan- 
cery Lane  that  we  were  forced  to  descend  to  the 
Realities  of  Life.  We  had  had  a  glorious  Day,  and 
for  many  Hours  had  wholly  forgotten  the  many 
Annoyances  and  Discomforts  with  which  our  lives 
were  beset.  Now  we  were  a  little  tired  and  exceed- 
ingly wet.  Mistress  Euphrosine's  Scoldings,  our  oft 
empty  stomachs,  hard  Beds  and  cheerless  Lives 
loomed  once  more  largely  upon  the  Horizon  of  our 
mental  vision.  '^. 

Our  Pace  began  to  slacken ;  your  glib  Tongue  was 
stilled.  Holding  Hands  now,  we  hurried  home  in 
silence,  our  Minds  stirred  by  a  still  vague  Sense  of 
Fear. 

Nor  was  that  Fear  unjustified,  alas!  as  subse- 
quent Events  proved.  No  sooner  had  We  entered 
the  House  than  We  knew  that  We  were  discovered. 
Mr.  Baggs'  cloak,  hung  up  in  the  Hall,  revealed  the 
terrifying  Fact  that  he  and  his  indomitable  Spouse 
had  unaccountably  returned  at  this  hour.  No  doubt 
that  the  Weather  was  the  primary  cause  of  this 
untoward  Event :  its  immediate  result  was  a  Volley 
of  abuse  poured  upon  our  Heads  by  Mistress 
Euphrosine's  eloquent  Tongue.  We  were  Repro- 
bates, Spawns  and  Children  of  the  Devil !  We  were 
Liars  and  Cheats  and  Thieves!  We  had  deserved 
God's  wrath  and  eternal  punishment!  Heavens 


24        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

above !  how  she  did  talk !  And  we,  alas !  could  not 
escape  that  vituperative  Torrent. 

We  had  fled  into  the  Kitchen  as  soon  as  We  had 
realised  that  we  were  fairly  caught;  but  Mistress 
Euphrosine  had  followed  us  thither  and  had  closed 
the  door  behind  her.  And  now,  standing  facing 
Us,  her  large,  gaunt  Body  barring  every  egress,  she 
talked  and  talked  until  You,  fair  Mistress,  gave  way 
to  a  passionate  Flood  of  tears. 

All  our  Pleasure,  our  Joy,  had  vanished;  driven 
hence  by  the  vixenish  Tongue  of  a  soured  Harridan. 
I  was  beside  myself  with  Rage.  But  for  your  re- 
straining influence,  I  could  have  struck  that  shriek- 
ing Virago,  and  for  ever  after  have  destroyed  what 
was  the  very  Essence  of  my  Life.  For  she  would 
have  turned  me  out  of  Doors  then  and  there,  and  I 
should  have  been  driven  forth  from  your  Presence, 
perhaps  never  to  return. 

The  sight  of  your  Patience  and  of  your  Goodness 
helped  to  deaden  my  Wrath.  I  hung  my  Head 
and  bit  my  Tongue  lest  it  should  betray  me  into 
saying  things  which  I  should  have  regretted  to  the 
end  of  my  Days. 

And  thus  that  memorable  Day  came  to  a  close. 
Somehow,  it  stands  before  my  mind  as  would  the 
first  legible  Page  in  the  Book  of  my  Life.  Before 
it,  everything  was  blurred;  but  that  Page  is  clear. 
I  can  read  it  now,  even  after  four  years.  For  the 
first  time,  destiny  had  writ  on  it  two  Names  in  bold, 
indelible  Characters — yours,  Mistress,  and  that  of 
Mr.  Betterton.  Henceforth,  not  a  Day  in  my  Life 


HOW  IT  ALL  BEGAN  25 

would  pass  without  one  of  You  looming  largely  in 
its  Scheme. 

Mary  Saunderson!  Tom  Betterton!  My  very 
pulses  seem  to  beat  to  the  tune  of  those  two  Names ! 
I  knew  then,  by  one  of  those  subtle  intuitions  which 
no  Man  has  ever  succeeded  in  comprehending,  that 
Heaven  itself  had  intended  You  for  one  another. 
How  then  could  I  stand  by  and  see  the  Wickedness 
of  Man  striving  to  interfere  with  the  decrees  of 
God? 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE 


After  that  memorable  Day,  Mistress,  we  were  like 
naughty  Children  who  were  being  punished  for 
playing  truant  out  of  School.  For  Weeks  and 
Months  our  Lives  went  on  with  dreary  monotony, 
with  never  a  chance  of  seeing  Something  of  that 
outside  World  of  which  we  had  caught  a  glimpse. 
You  continued  to  sew  and  to  scrub  and  to  be  at  the 
beck  and  call  of  a  Scold.  I  went  on  copying  legal 
Documents  till  my  very  Brain  appeared  atrophied, 
incapable  of  a  single  happy  Thought  or  of  a  joyous 
Hope. 

Out  there  in  the  great  World,  many  things  were 
happening.  The  Lord  Protector  died ;  his  Son  suc- 
ceeded. And  then  England  woke  to  the  fact  that 
she  had  never  cared  for  these  Regicides,  Republi- 
cans and  Puritans ;  that  in  her  Heart  she  had  always 
loved  the  martyred  King  and  longed  to  set  his  Son 
once  more  upon  his  Throne. 

I  often  thought  of  my  loquacious  Neighbour  at 
the  Play,  with  his  talk  of  Old  Noll  and  Master 
Richard  and  of  George.  For  George  Monk  in 
truth  had  become  the  Man  of  the  hour;  for  he  it 

26 


THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE        27 

was  who  was  bringing  King  Charles  back  into  his 
Kingdom  again. 

Two  years  had  gone  by  since  our  memorable  Day 
at  the  Play,  and  as  that  same  Neighbour  had  also 
foretold,  England  was  hearing  a  great  deal  about 
Tom  Betterton.  His  Name  was  on  every  one's  lips. 
Mr.  Rhodes,  the  Bookseller,  had  obtained  a  licence 
from  General  Monk  to  get  a  Company  of  Actors 
together,  and  the  palmy  Days  of  the  Cockpit  had 
begun.  Then  it  was  that  some  faint  Echo  of  the 
Life  of  our  great  City  penetrated  as  far  as  the  dull 
Purlieus  of  Mr.  Baggs'  Household ;  then  it  was  that 
the  ring  of  the  Fame  of  Mr.  Betterton  even  caused 
Mistress  Euphrosine  to  recall  her  former  arbitrary 
Judgments. 

Every  one  now  was  talking  of  her  illustrious 
Brother.  General  Monk  himself  had  made  a  Friend 
of  him,  so  had  Sir  John  Grenville,  who  was  the 
King's  own  Envoy;  and  those  who  were  in  the 
know  prophesied  that  His  Majesty  Himself  would 
presently  honour  the  eminent  Player  with  his  re- 
gard. My  Lord  Rochester  was  his  intimate  Friend ; 
Sir  George  Etherege  was  scarce  ever  seen  in  public 
without  him.  Lord  Broghill  had  vowed  that  the 
English  Stage  was  made  famous  throughout  the 
Continent  of  Europe  by  the  superlative  excellence  of 
Mr.  Betterton. 

To  such  Eulogies,  coming  from  the  most  exalted 
Personages  in  the  Land,  Mistress  Euphrosine  could 
not  turn  an  altogether  deaf  Ear;  and  being  a 
Woman  of  character  and  ambition,  she  soon  realised 


28        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

that  her  Antagonism  to  her  illustrious  Brother  not 
only  rendered  her  ridiculous,  but  might  even  prove 
a  bar  to  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs'  Advancement. 

The  first  Step  towards  a  Reconciliation  was  taken 
when  Mr.  Baggs  and  his  Spouse  went  together  to 
the  Play  to  see  Mr.  Betterton  act  Solyman  in  a  play 
called  "The  Siege  of  Rhodes."  You  and  I,  Mis- 
tress, were  by  great  favour  allowed  to  go  too,  and 
to  take  our  places  in  that  same  Gallery  where  two 
Years  previously  You  and  I  had  spent  such  happy 
hours.  We  spoke  little  to  one  another,  I  remember. 
Our  hearts  were  full  of  Memories;  but  I  could  see 
your  brown  Eyes  lighten  as  soon  as  the  eminent 
Actor  walked  upon  the  Stage.  The  same  Glamour 
which  his  personality  had  thrown  over  You  two 
years  ago  was  still  there.  Nay!  it  was  enhanced 
an  hundredfold,  for  to  the  magnetic  presence  of  the 
Man  was  now  added  the  supreme  Magic  of  the 
Artist.  I  am  too  humble  a  Scrivener,  fair  Lady, 
to  attempt  to  describe  Mr.  Betterton's  acting,  nor 
do  I  think  that  such  Art  as  his  could  be  adequately 
discussed.  Your  enjoyment  of  it  I  did  fully  share. 
You  devoured  him  with  your  Eyes  while  he  was  on 
the  Stage,  and  the  Charm  of  his  Voice  filled  the 
crowded  Theatre  and  silenced  every  other  sound. 
I  knew  that  the  World  had  ceased  to  exist  for  You 
and  that  the  mysterious  and  elusive  god  of  Love 
had  hit  your  Heart  with  his  wayward  dart. 

I  thank  God  that  neither  then  nor  later  did  any 
feeling  of  Bitterness  enter  into  my  Soul.  Sad  I 
was,  but  of  a  gentle  Sadness  which  made  me  feel 


THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE        29 

mine  own  Unworthiness,  even  whilst  I  prayed  that 
You  might  realise  your  Heart's  desire. 

Strangely  enough,  it  was  at  the  very  moment 
when  I  first  understood  the  state  of  your  Feelings 
that  mine  eyes,  a  little  dimmed  with  tears,  were  ar- 
rested by  the  Sight  of  a  young  and  beautiful  Lady, 
who  sat  in  one  of  the  Boxes,  not  very  far  from  our 
point  of  vantage.  I  wondered  then  what  it  was 
about  her  that  thus  enchained  mine  Attention.  Of 
a  truth,  she  was  singularly  fair,  of  that  dainty  and 
translucent  Fairness  which  I  for  one  have  never  been 
able  to  admire,  but  which  is  wont  to  set  Men's  pulses 
beating  with  an  added  quickness — at  least,  so  I've 
heard  it  said.  The  Lady  had  blue  Eyes,  an  ex- 
quisitely white  Skin,  her  golden  Hair  was  dressed 
in  the  new  modish  Fashion,  with  quaint  little  Ring- 
lets all  around  her  low,  square  Brow.  The  face 
was  that  of  a  Child,  yet  there  was  something  about 
the  firm  Chin,  something  about  the  Forehead 
and  the  set  of  the  Lips  which  spoke  of 
Character  and  of  Strength  not  often  found  in  one 
so  young. 

Immediately  behind  her  sat  a  young  Cavalier  of 
prepossessing  Appearance,  who  obviously  was  whis- 
pering pleasing  Words  in  the  Lady's  shell-like  ear. 
I  confess  that  for  the  moment  I  longed  for  the  pres- 
ence of  our  loquacious  Neighbour  of  two  years  ago. 
He,  without  doubt,  would  have  known  who  the 
noble  young  Lady  was  and  who  was  her  attentive 
Cavalier.  Soon,  however,  the  progress  of  the  Play 
once  more  riveted  mine  Attention  upon  the  Stage, 


30   HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

and  I  forgot  all  about  the  beautiful  Lady  until  it 
was  time  to  go.  Then  I  sought  her  with  mine 
Eyes;  but  she  had  already  gone.  And  I,  whilst 
privileged  to  arrange  your  Cloak  around  your  shoul- 
ders, realised  how  much  more  attractive  brown 
Hair  was  than  fair,  and  how  brilliant  could  be  the 
sparkle  of  dark  Eyes  as  against  the  more  languor- 
ous expression  of  those  that  are  blue. 


I  was  not  present  at  the  time  that  You,  Mistress, 
first  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Betterton.  He 
came  to  the  House  originally  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  consulting  with  his  Brother-in-law  on  a  point  of 
Law,  he  having  an  idea  of  joining  Sir  William 
Davenant  in  the  Management  of  the  new  Theatre 
which  that  Gentleman  was  about  to  open  in  Lin- 
coln's Inn  Fields. 

The  season  in  London  promised  to  be  very  bril- 
liant. His  Majesty  the  King  was  coming  into  his 
own  once  more.  Within  a  Month  or  two  at  the 
latest,  he  would  land  at  Dover,  and  as  even  through 
his  misfortunes  and  exile  he  had  always  been  a 
great  Patron  of  the  Arts  of  Drama  and  Literature, 
there  was  no  doubt  that  he  would  give  his  gracious 
Patronage  to  such  enterprises  as  Sir  William  Dave- 
nant and  Mr.  Killigrew,  not  to  mention  others,  had 
already  in  view. 

No  doubt  that  Sir  William  Davenant  felt  that  no 
Company  of  Actors  could  be  really  complete  with- 
out the  leadership  of  Mr.  Betterton;  and  we  all 


THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE         31 

knew  that  both  he  and  Mr.  Killigrew  were  literally 
fighting  one  another  to  obtain  the  great  Actor's 
services. 

In  the  end,  of  course,  it  was  Sir  William  who 
won,  and  thus  Mr.  Betterton  came  to  visit  Mr. 
Theophilus  Baggs  to  arrange  for  an  Indenture 
whereby  he  was  to  have  a  Share  of  the  Profits  de- 
rived from  the  Performances  at  the  new  Theatre 
in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields. 

You,  Mistress,  will  remember  that  Day  even  bet- 
ter than  I  do,  for  to  me  it  only  marked  one  more 
Stage  on  the  dreary  road  of  my  uneventful  Life, 
whilst  for  You  it  meant  the  first  Pearl  in  that 
jewelled  Crown  of  Happiness  which  Destiny  hath 
fashioned  for  You.  Mr.  Baggs  had  sent  me  on  that 
day  to  Richmond,  to  see  a  Client  of  his  there. 
Whether  he  did  this  purposely,  at  the  instance  of 
Mistress  Euphrosine,  in  order  to  get  me  out  of  the 
way,  I  know  not.  In  her  Estimation  I  was  supposed 
to  have  leanings  for  the  Actor's  profession  in  those 
days — surely  a  foolish  Supposition,  seeing  how  un- 
prepossessing was  my  Appearance  and  how  medi- 
ocre my  Intellect. 

Without  doubt,  however,  could  she  have  read  the 
Secrets  of  your  Soul,  dear  Mistress,  she  would  have 
sent  You  on  an  errand  too,  to  a  remote  corner  of 
England,  or  had  locked  You  up  in  your  Room,  ere 
you  came  face  to  face  with  the  great  Man  whose 
Personality  and  Visage  were  already  deeply  graven 
upon  your  Heart. 

But  her  futile,  unamiable  Mind  was  even  then 


32       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

torn  between  the  desire  to  make  a  brave  show  of 
Prosperity  before  her  illustrious  Brother  and  to  wel- 
come him  as  the  Friend  and  Companion  of  great 
Gentlemen,  and  the  old  puritanical  Spirit  within  her 
which  still  looked  upon  Actors  as  Rogues  and  Vagar 
bonds,  Men  upon  whom  God  would  shower  some 
very  special,  altogether  terrible  Curses  because  of 
their  loose  and  immoral  Lives. 

Thus  Mistress  Euphrosine's  treatment  of  the  dis- 
tinguished Actor  was  ever  contradictory.  She  did 
her  best  to  make  him  feel  that  she  despised  him  for 
his  Calling,  yet  nevertheless  she  fawned  upon  him 
because  of  his  connection  with  the  Aristocracy. 
Even  subsequently,  when  Mr.  Betterton  enjoyed  not 
only  the  Patronage  but  the  actual  Friendship  of  His 
Majesty  the  King,  Mistress  Euphrosine's  attitude 
towards  him  was  always  one  of  pious  scorn.  He 
might  be  enjoying  the  protection  of  an  earthly  King, 
but  what  was  that  in  comparison  with  his  Sister's 
intimacy  with  God  ?  He  might  consort  with  Dukes, 
but  she  would  anon  make  one  in  a  company  of 
Angels,  amongst  whom  such  Reprobates  as  Actors 
would  never  find  a  place. 

That,  I  think,  was  her  chief  Attitude  of  Mind, 
one  that  caused  me  much  Indignation  at  the  time; 
for  I  felt  that  I  could  have  knelt  down  and  wor- 
shipped the  heaven-born  Genius  who  was  delighting 
the  whole  Kingdom  with  his  Art.  But  Mr.  Better- 
ton,  with  his  habitual  kindliness  and  good  humour, 
paid  no  heed  to  Mistress  Euphrosine's  sour  Disposi- 
tion towards  him,  and  when  she  tried  to  wither  him 


THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE        33 

with  lofty  Speeches,  he  would  quickly  make  her 
ridiculous  with  witty  Repartee. 

He  came  more  and  more  frequently  to  the  House, 
and  mine  Eyes  being  unusually  sharp  in  such  mat- 
ters, I  soon  saw  that  You  had  wholly  won  his  re- 
gard. Those  then  became  happy  times.  Happy  ones 
for  You,  Mistress,  whose  Love  for  a  great  and  good 
Man  was  finding  full  Reciprocity.  Happy  ones  for 
him,  who  in  You  had  found  not  only  a  loving  Heart, 
but  rare  understanding,  and  that  great  Talent  which 
he  then  and  there  set  himself  to  develop.  They  were 
happy  times  also  for  me,  the  poor,  obscure  Scrivener 
with  the  starved  Heart  and  the  dreary  Life,  who 
now  was  allowed  to  warm  his  Soul  in  the  Sunshine 
of  your  joint  Happiness. 

It  was  not  long  befofe  Mr.  Betterton  noticed  the 
profound  Admiration  which  I  had  for  him,  not  long 
before  he  admitted  me  to  his  Friendship  and  Inti- 
macy. I  say  it  with  utmost  pride,  that  I  was  the 
first  one  with  whom  he  discussed  the  question  of 
your  Career  and  to  whom  he  confided  the  fact  that 
You  had  a  conspicuous  talent  for  the  Stage,  and 
that  he  intended  to  teach  and  to  train  You  until  You 
could  appear  with  him  on  the  Boards.  You  may 
imagine  how  this  Idea  staggered  me  at  first — aye! 
and  horrified  me  a  little.  I  suppose  that  something 
of  the  old  puritanical  middle-class  Prejudice  had 
eaten  so  deeply  into  my  Soul  that  I  could  not  be 
reconciled  to  the  idea  of  seeing  any  Woman — least 
of  all  you,  Mistress — acting  a  part  upon  the  Stage. 
Hitherto,  young  Mr.  Kynaston  and  other  boy- 


34        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

actors  had  represented  with  perfect  grace  and  charm 
all  the  parts  which  have  been  written  for  Women; 
and  I  could  not  picture  to  myself  any  respectable 
Female  allowing  herself  to  be  kissed  or  embraced 
fn  full  view  of  a  large  Audience,  or  speaking  some 
of  those  Lines  which  our  great  Dramatists  have 
thought  proper  to  write. 

But  Mr.  Betterton's  Influence  and  his  unanswer- 
able Arguments  soon  got  the  better  of  those  old- 
fashioned  Ideas,  and  anon  I  found  myself  looking 
eagerly  forward  to  the  happy  time  when  You  would 
be  freed  from  the  trammels  of  Mistress  Euphro- 
sine's  Tyranny  and,  as  the  Wife  and  Helpmate  of 
the  greatest  Actor  of  our  times,  take  your  place 
beside  him  among  the  Immortals. 

3 

It  was  not  until  the  spring  of  the  following  Year 
that  I  first  noticed  the  cloud  which  was  gathering 
over  your  happiness.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  day 
when  first  I  saw  Tears  in  your  Eyes. 

You  had  finally  decided  by  then  to  adopt  the  Stage 
as  your  Profession,  and  at  the  instance  of  Mr.  Bet- 
terton,  Sir  William  Davenant  had  promised  You  a 
small  part  in  the  new  Play,  wherewith  he  was  about 
to  open  his  new  Theatre  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields. 
The  piece  chosen  was  called  "Othello,"  written  by 
one  William  Shakespeare,  and  Sir  William  had 
finally  decided  that  the  parts  written  in  this  Play  by 
the  Author  for  Women  should  be  enacted  by 
Women ;  an  arrangement  which  was  even  then  be- 


THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE         35 

ing  worked  quite  successfully  by  Mr.  Killigrevv  at 
his  Theatre  in  Clare  Market. 

I  knew  that  a  brilliant  Future  lay  before  You; 
but  Mistress  Euphrosine,  who  had  constituted  her- 
self your  Guardian  and  Mentor,  tried  in  vain  to  turn 
You  from  your  Career.  The  day  when  You  made 
your  Decision  was  yet  another  of  those  momentous 
ones  which  will  never  fade  from  my  Memory.  You 
had  hitherto  been  clever  enough  to  evade  Mistress 
Euphrosine's  Vigilance  whilst  you  studied  the  Art 
of  speaking  and  acting  under  the  guidance  of  Mr. 
Betterton.  She  thought  that  his  frequent  Visits  to 
the  House  were  due  to  his  Regard  for  her,  whereas 
he  came  only  to  see  You  and  to  be  of  service  to  You 
in  the  pursuit  of  your  Studies. 

But  the  time  came  when  You  had  to  avow  openly 
what  were  your  Intentions  with  regard  to  the  Fu- 
ture. Sir  William  Davenant's  Theatre  in  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields  was  to  be  opened  in  June,  and  You,  Mis- 
tress, were,  together  with  his  principal  Actresses,  to 
be  boarded  after  that  by  him  at  his  own  House,  in 
accordance  with  one  of  the  Provisions  of  the  Agree- 
ment. The  Question  arose  as  to  where  You  should 
lodge,  your  poor  Mother  having  no  home  to  offer 
You.  Mistress  Euphrosine  made  a  great  Show  of 
her  Abhorrence  of  the  Stage  and  all  the  Immorality 
which  such  a  Career  implied.  My  cheeks  blush  with 
shame  even  now  at  the  recollection  of  the  abomi- 
nable language  which  she  used  when  first  You  told 
her  what  You  meant  to  do,  and  my  Heart  is  still 
filled  with  admiration  at  your  Patience  and  For- 


36        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

bearance  with  her  under  such  trying  circumstances. 

Fortunately  for  us  all,  Mr.  Betterton  arrived  in 
the  midst  of  all  this  wrangle.  He  soon  succeeded 
in  silencing  Mistress  Euphrosine's  exacerbating 
tongue,  and  this  not  so  much  by  the  magic  of  his 
Persuasion  as  by  the  aid  of  the  golden  Key  which 
is  known  to  open  every  door — even  that  which  leads 
to  a  scolding  Harridan's  heart.  Mr.  Betterton 
offered  his  Sister  a  substantial  Sum  of  Money  if 
she  in  return  would  undertake  to  give  You  a  com- 
fortable lodging  until  such  time  as  he  himself  would 
claim  You  as  his  Wife.  He  stipulated  that  You 
should  be  made  comfortable  and  that  no  kind  of 
menial  work  should  ever  be  put  upon  You. 

"Mistress  Saunderson,"  he  said  impressively, 
"must  be  left  absolutely  free  to  pursue  her  Art, 
unhampered  by  any  other  consideration." 

Even  so,  Mistress  Euphrosine  could  not  restrain 
her  malicious  tongue,  and  the  whole  equitable  ar- 
rangement might  even  then  have  fallen  through  but 
for  your  gentleness  and  quiet  determination. 
Finally,  Mistress  Euphrosine  gave  in.  She  accepted 
the  liberal  terms  which  her  illustrious  Brother  was 
offering  her  for  your  Maintenance,  but  she  reserved 
unto  herself  the  right  of  terminating  the  Arrange- 
ment at  her  will  and  pleasure.  Obviously,  she  meant 
to  be  as  disagreeable  as  she  chose ;  but  You  had  to 
have  a  respectable  roof  over  your  head  until  such 
time  as  You  found  a  Haven  under  the  aegis  of  your 
future  Husband's  Name. 

After  that,  it  seemed  as  if  no  cloud  could  ever 


THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE         37 

come  to  obscure  the  Heavens  of  your  happiness. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  very  soon  after  that  Episode 
that  I  chanced  upon  You  one  evening,  sitting  in  the 
parlour  with  the  Book  of  a  Play  before  You,  yet 
apparently  not  intent  upon  reading.  When  I  spoke 
your  name  You  started  as  if  out  of  a  Dream  and 
quickly  You  put  your  handkerchief  up  to  your  eyes. 

I  made  no  remark  then;  it  would  have  been  in- 
solence on  my  part  to  intrude  upon  your  private 
Affairs.  But  I  felt  like  some  faithful  cur  on  the 
watch. 

For  awhile  dust  was  thrown  in  my  eyes  from  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Betterton  announced  to  us  his  pro- 
jected trip  abroad,  at  the  instance  of  Sir  William 
Davenant,  who  desired  him  to  study  the  Scenery 
and  Decorations  which  it  seems  were  noted  Ad- 
juncts to  the  Stage  over  in  Paris.  If  Mr.  Betterton 
approved  of  what  he  saw  there,  he  was  to  bring 
back  with  him  a  scheme  for  such  Scenery  to  be 
introduced  at  the  new  Theatre  in  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields,  which  would  be  a  great  triumph  over  Mr. 
Killigrew's  Management,  where  no  such  innovations 
had  ever  been  thought  of. 

Naturally,  Mr.  Betterton,  being  a  Man  and  an 
Artist,  was  eager  and  excited  over  this  journey, 
which  showed  what  great  confidence  Sir  William 
Davenant  reposed  in  his  Judgment.  This,  me- 
thought,  accounted  for  the  fact  that  You,  Mistress, 
seemed  so  much  more  dejected  at  the  prospect  of 
his  Absence  than  he  was.  I  also  was  satisfied  that 
this  Absence  accounted  for  your  tears. 


38        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Fool  that  I  was !    I  should  have  guessed ! 

Mr.  Betterton  was  absent  two  months,  during- 
which  time  I  oft  chanced  upon  You,  dear  Mistress, 
with  a  book  lying  unheeded  on  your  lap  and  your 
dark  eyes  glistening  with  unnatural  brilliancy.  But 
I  still  believed  that  it  was  only  Mr.  Betterton's  Ab- 
sence that  caused  this  sadness  which  had  of  late 
fallen  over  your  Spirits.  I  know  that  he  did  not 
write  often,  and  I  saw — oh!  quite  involuntarily — 
that  when  his  Letters  came  they  were  unaccountably 
short. 

Then,  one  day — it  was  in  May — seeing  You  more 
than  usually  depressed,  I  suggested  that  as  the 
weather  was  so  fine  we  should  repair  to  the  Theatre 
in  Clare  Market,  and  there  see  Mr.  Killigrew's  com- 
pany enact  "  The  Beggar's  Bush,"  a  play  in  which 
Major  Mohun  was  acting  the  part  of  Bellamente 
with  considerable  success. 

Had  I  but  known  what  we  were  destined  to  see 
in  that  Theatre,  I  swear  to  God  that  I  would  sooner 
have  hacked  off  my  right  leg  than  to  have  taken 
You  thither.  Yet  We  both  started  on  our  way, 
oblivious  of  what  lay  before  Us.  Time  had  long 
since  gone  by  when  such  expeditions  had  to  be  done 
in  secret.  You,  Mistress,  were  independent  of  Mis- 
tress Euphrosine's  threats  and  tantrums,  and  I  had 
come  to  realise  that  my  Employer  could  nowhere 
else  in  the  whole  City  find  a  Clerk  who  would  do 
so  much  for  such  very  scanty  pay,  and  that  he  would 
never  dismiss  me,  for  fear  that  he  would  never  again 
meet  with  such  a  willing  Drudge. 


THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE         39 

So,  the  day  being  one  on  which  Mr.  Baggs  and 
Mistress  Euphrosine  were  absenting  themselves 
from  home,  I  persuaded  You  easily  enough  to  come 
tirith  me  to  the  Play. 

Your  spirits  had  risen  of  late  because  you  were 
expecting  Mr.  Betterton's  home-coming.  In  fact, 
You  had  received  authentic  news  that  he  would 
probably  be  back  in  England  within  the  week. 


At  once,  when  I  took  my  seat  in  the  Gallery 
beside  you,  I  noticed  the  beautiful  fair  Lady  in  the 
Box,  whom  I  had  not  seen  since  that  marvellous 
day  a  year  ago,  when  you  and  I  sat  together  at  the 
Play.  She  was  more  radiantly  beautiful  than  ever 
before. 

Discreet  enquiries  from  my  Neighbour  elicited 
the  information  that  she  was  the  Lady  Barbara 
Wychwoode,  daughter  of  the  Marquis  of  Sidbury, 
and  the  acknowledged  Belle  among  the  Debutantes 
of  the  season.  I  understood  that  nothing  had  been 
seen  of  the  Lady  for  the  past  year  or  more,  owing 
to  the  grave  and  lingering  illness  of  her  Mother, 
during  the  whole  course  of  which  the  young  Girl 
had  given  up  her  entire  life  to  the  tending  of  the 
Invalid. 

Now  that  his  Lordship  was  a  Widower,  he  had 
insisted  on  bringing  his  Daughter  to  London  so 
that  she  might  be  brought  to  the  notice  of  His 
Majesty  and  take  her  place  at  Court  and  in  Society, 
as  it  beseemed  her  rank.  That  place  the  Lady  Bar- 


40        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

bara  conquered  quickly  enough,  by  her  Beauty,  her 
Charm  and  her  Wit,  so  much  so  that  I  was  told  that 
all  the  young  Gallants  in  the  City  were  more  or  less 
over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  her,  but  that  her 
affections  had  remained  steadfastly  true  to  the 
friend  and  companion  of  her  girlhood,  the  young 
Earl  of  Stour  who,  in  his  turn  had  never  swerved 
in  his  Allegiance  and  had  patiently  waited  for  the 
day  when  her  duty  to  her  Mother  would  cease  and 
her  love  for  him  be  allowed  to  have  full  sway. 

All  this,  of  course,  sounded  very  pretty  and  very 
romantic;  and  you,  Mistress,  gave  ungrudging  ad- 
miration to  the  beautiful  girl  who  was  the  cynosure 
of  all  eyes.  She  sat  in  the  Box,  in  the  company  of 
an  elderly  and  distinguished  Gentleman,  who  was 
obviously  her  Father,  and  of  another  Man,  who  ap- 
peared to  be  a  year  or  two  older  than  herself  and 
whose  likness  of  features  to  her  own  proclaimed 
him  to  be  her  Brother.  At  the  rear  of  the  box  a 
number  of  brilliant  Cavaliers  had  congregated,  who 
had  obviously  come  in  order  to  pay  court  to  this 
acknowledged  Queen  of  Beauty.  Foremost  among 
these  we  noticed  a  tall,  handsome  young  Man  whose 
noble  features  looked  to  me  to  suggest  a.  somewhat 
weak  yet  obstinate  disposition.  He  was  undeniably 
handsome :  the  huge,  fair  periwig  which  he  wore 
lent  a  certain  manly  dignity  to  his  countenance.  We 
quickly  came  to  the  conclusion  that  this  must  be  the 
Earl  of  Stour,  for  it  was  obvious  that  the  Lady  Bar- 
bara reserved  her  most  welcoming  smile  and  her 
kindliest  glances  for  him. 


THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE        41 

The  company  in  the  Box  kept  us  vastly  amused 
for  a  time,  in  the  intervals  of  watching  the  Actors 
on  the  Stage;  and  I  remember  that  during  the  sec- 
ond Act  the  dialogue  in  the  Play  being  somewhat 
dull,  both  You  and  I  fell  to  watching  the  Lady  Bar- 
bara and  her  throng  of  Admirers.  Suddenly  we 
noticed  that  all  these  Gentlemen  gave  way  as  if  to  a 
New-comer  who  had  just  entered  at  the  rear  of  the 
Box  and  was  apparently  desirous  of  coming  for- 
ward in  order  to  pay  his  respects.  At  first  we  could 
not  see  who  the  New-comer  was,  nor  did  we  greatly 
care.  The  next  moment,  however,  he  was  behind 
the  Lady  Barbara's  chair.  Anon  he  stooped  for- 
ward in  order  to  whisper  something  in  her  ear. 

And  I  saw  who  it  was. 

It  was  Mr.  Betterton. 

For  the  moment,  I  remember  that  I  felt  as  if  I 
were  paralysed;  either  that  or  crazed.  I  could  not 
trust  mine  eyes. 

Then  I  turned  my  head  and  looked  at  You. 

You  too  had  seen  and  recognised.  For  the  mo- 
ment You  did  not  move,  but  sat  rigid  and  silent. 
Your  face  had  become  a  shade  or  two  paler  and 
there  was  a  scarce  perceptible  tremor  of  your  lips. 

But  that  was  all.  I  alone  knew  that  You  had 
just  received  a  stab  in  your  loving  and  trusting 
Heart,  that  something  had  occurred  which  would 
for  ever  mar  the  perfect  trustfulness  of  your  early 
love  .  .  .  something  which  you  would  never 
forget. 


42        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

5 

You  sat  out  the  rest  of  the  Play,  dear  Mistress, 
outwardly  quite  serene.  Never,  I  think,  has  my 
admiration  for  your  Character  and  for  your  Worth 
been  more  profound.  I  believe  that  I  suffered 
almost  as  much  as  You.  I  suffered  because  many 
things  were  made  clear  to  me  then  that  I  had  ignored 
before.  Your  tears,  your  many  Silences,  that  look 
of  trustful  happiness  now  gone  from  your  eyes.  I 
understood  that  the  Incident  was  only  the  confir- 
mation of  what  you  had  suspected  long  since. 

But  you  would  not  let  any  one  see  your  heart. 
No!  not  even  me,  your  devoted  Bondsman,  who 
would  gladly  die  to  save  You  from  pain.  Yet  I 
could  not  bring  my  heart  to  condemn  Mr.  Betterton 
utterly.  I  did  not  believe  even  then  that  he  had 
been  unfaithful — led  away  no  doubt  by  the  glamour 
of  the  society  Beauty,  by  the  talk  and  the  swagger 
of  all  the  idle  Gentlemen  about  town — but  not  un- 
faithful. His  was  not  a  Nature  to  love  more  than 
the  once,  and  he  loved  You,  Mistress — loved  You 
from  the  moment  that  he  set  eyes  on  You,  from 
the  moment  that  he  knew  your  Worth.  His  fancy 
had  perhaps  been  captured  by  the  beautiful  Lady 
Barbara,  his  Heart  wherein  your  image  was 
eternally  enshrined,  had  been  momentarily  be- 
witched by  her  wiles ;  but  he  was  not  responsible  for 
these  Actions — that  I  could  have  sworn  even  then. 

Mr.  Betterton  is  above  all  an  Artist,  and  in  my 
humble  judgment  Artists  are  not  to  be  measured 


THE  RIFT  WITHIN  THE  LUTE        43 

by  ordinary  standards.  Their  mind  is  more  fanci- 
ful, their  fancy  more  roving ;  they  are  the  Butterflies 
of  this  World,  gay  to  look  at  and  light  on  the  wing. 

You  never  told  me,  Mistress,  what  course  You 
adopted  after  that  eventful  afternoon;  nor  would  I 
have  ventured  to  pry  into  your  secrets.  That  You 
and  Mr.  Betterton  talked  the  whole  matter  over,  I 
make  no  doubt.  I  could  even  tell  You,  methinks, 
on  which  day  the  heart  to  heart  talk  between  You 
took  place.  That  there  were  no  Recriminations  on 
your  part  I  dare  aver;  also  that  Mr.  Betterton  re- 
ceived his  final  dismissal  on  that  day  with  a  greater 
respect  than  ever  for  You  in  his  Heart,  and  with 
deep  sorrow  weighing  upon  his  Soul. 

After  that,  his  visits  to  the  house  became  more 
and  more  infrequent;  and  at  first  You  would  con- 
trive to  be  absent  when  he  came.  But,  as  I  have 
always  maintained,  his  love  for  You  still  filled  his 
innermost  Being,  even  though  the  Lady  Barbara 
ruled  over  his  fancy  for  the  time.  He  longed  for 
your  Presence  and  for  your  Friendship,  even 
though  at  that  time  he  believed  that  You  had  totally 
erased  his  image  from  your  Heart. 

And  so,  when  he  came,  and  I  had  perforce  to 
tell  him  that  You  were  absent,  he  would  linger  on 
in  the  hope  that  You  would  return,  and  he  would 
go  away  with  a  bitter  sigh  of  regret  whenever  he 
had  failed  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  You. 

You  never  told  me  in  so  many  Words  that  you 
had  definitely  broken  off  your  Engagement  to  Mr. 
Betterton,  nor  do  I  believe  that  such  was  your  in- 


44        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

tention  even  then.  Mistress  Euphrosine  certainly 
never  realised  that  You  were  smarting  under  so  ter- 
rible a  blow,  and  she  still  spoke  glibly  of  your  forth- 
coming marriage. 

It  was  indeed  fortunate  for  You,  fortunate  for  us 
all,  that  both  she  and  Mr.  Baggs  were  too  self- 
absorbed — he  in  his  Business  and  she  in  her  Piety — 
and  too  selfish,  to  be  aware  of  what  went  on  around 
them.  Their  self -absorption  left  You  free  to  in- 
dulge in  the  luxury  of  suffering  in  silence;  and  I 
was  made  almost  happy  at  times  by  an  occasional 
surreptitious  pressure  of  your  Hand,  a  glance  from 
your  Eyes,  telling  me  that  my  Understanding  and 
Sympathy  were  not  wholly  unwelcome. 


In  June,  you  made  your  debut  upon  the  stage, 
dear  Mistress.  Though  You  only  played  a  small 
Part,  your  Grace  and  Charm  soon  won  universal 
approval.  I  have  so  often  told  You  of  my  feelings, 
my  hopes,  my  tremors  and  my  joy  on  the  occasion 
when  first  I  saw  You  upon  the  boards,  that  I  will 
not  weary  You  with  the  re-telling  of  them  once 
again.  Securely  hidden  behind  a  pillar,  I  only  lived 
through  the  super-acuteness  of  my  Senses,  which 
drank  in  your  Presence  from  the  moment  when  You 
stepped  out  from  behind  the  Curtain  and  revealed 
your  gracious  personality  to  an  admiring  Audience. 

As  long  as  I  live,  every  word  which  You  spoke 
on  that  day  will  continue  to  ring  in  mine  ear,  and 
ere  mine  eyes  close  for  ever  in  their  last  long  Sleep, 
I  shall  see  your  exquisite  Image  floating  dreamlike 
before  their  gaze. 


From  that  day  onward,  I  saw  you  more  seldom 
than  I  had  been  wont  to  do  before.  Your  Success 
at  the  new  Theatre  had  been  so  pronounced  that 
Sir  William  Davenant  soon  entrusted  You  with 
more  important  parts.  Thus  your  time  was  greatly 

45 


46       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

taken  up  both  with  Performances  and  with  Re- 
hearsals and  with  the  choosing  and  trying  on  of 
dresses.  Of  necessity,  your  work  threw  you  often 
in  the  company  of  Mr.  Betterton,  he  being  the  lead- 
ing Actor  in  Sir  William's  Company,  and  the  most 
popular  as  he  was  the  most  eminent  of  His 
Majesty's  Well-Beloved  Servants.  In  fact,  his 
Fame  at  this  time  was  reaching  its  Apogee.  He 
was  reckoned  one  of  the  Intimates  of  His  Majesty 
himself ;  Gentlemen  and  Noblemen  sought  his  com- 
pany ;  great  Ladies  were  zealous  to  win  his  favours. 

Needless  to  say  that  concurrently  with  his  rise  to 
pre-eminence,  an  army  of  Enemies  sprung  up 
around  him.  Hungry  curs  will  ever  bay  at  the 
moon.  Set  a  cat  upon  a  high  post  and  in  a  moment 
others  will  congregate  down  below  and  spit  and 
yowl  at  their  more  fortunate  kind.  Scandal  and 
spite,  which  had  never  been  so  rife  as  in  these  days, 
fastened  themselves  like  evil  tentacles  on  Mr.  Bet- 
terton's  fair  Name. 

He  was  too  proud  to  combat  these,  and  You  too 
proud  to  lend  an  ear  to  them.  You  met  him  now 
upon  an  easy  footing  of  Friendship,  of  gentle  grati- 
tude as  of  a  successful  Pupil  towards  a  kindly 
Teacher.  To  any  one  who  did  not  know  You  as  I 
do,  You  must  at  that  time  have  seemed  completely 
happy.  You  were  independent  now,  earning  a  good 
salary,  paying  Mistress  Euphrosine  liberally  for  the 
lodgings  which  she  placed  at  your  disposal;  free  to 
come  and  go  as  You  pleased,  to  receive  the  visits  of 
Gentlemen  who  were  desirous  of  paying  their  re- 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  4T 

spects  to  You.  You  were,  in  fact,  Mistress  Saun- 
derson,  the  well-known  Actress,  who  was  busy 
climbing — and  swiftly,  too — the  Ladder  of  Fame. 

Of  your  proposed  Marriage  with  Mr.  Betterton 
there  was  of  course  no  longer  any  talk.  For  some 
reason  best  known  to  herself,  and  which  I  myself 
never  tried  to  fathom,  even  Mistress  Euphrosine 
had  ceased  to  speak  of  it. 

Did  she,  within  the  depths  of  her  ambitious  and 
avaricious  Heart,  harbour  the  belief  that  her 
Brother  would  one  day  wed  one  of  those  great 
Ladies,  who  were  wont  to  hang  entranced  upon  his 
lips,  when  he  spoke  the  immortal  words  of  the  late 
Mr.  William  Shakespeare  or  of  Mr.  John  Dryden? 
I  know  not;  nor  what  benefit  she  would  have  de- 
rived from  it  if  such  an  unlikely  Event  had  indeed 
taken  place. 

Towards  me,  she  was  still  frigidly  contemptuous. 
But  as  to  that,  I  did  not  care.  I  was  determined  to 
endure  her  worst  gibes  for  the  sake  of  dwelling 
under  the  same  roof  which  still  had  the  privilege 
of  sheltering  You. 

3 

It  was  one  day  early  in  September — just  some- 
thing over  a  year  ago,  in  fact — that  my  Lord  Stour 
called  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs.  I 
knew  him  at  once  for  the  Cavalier  who  was  ever  in 
attendance  upon  the  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode  and 
whom  rumour  had  assigned  to  her  as  her  future 
Husband. 


48       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Frankly,  I  had  never  liked  him  from  the  first. 
I  thought  him  overbearing  and  arrogant.  His  man- 
ner towards  those  who  were  inferior  to  him  in 
station  was  always  one  of  contempt.  And  I  often 
wondered  how  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs,  who  was  an 
Attorney  of  some  standing  in  the  City  of  London, 
could  endure  the  cool  insolence  wherewith  young 
Gentlemen  like  my  Lord  Stour  and  others  were 
wont  to  treat  him.  Not  only  that,  but  he  seemed 
to  derive  a  sort  of  gratification  from  it,  and  was 
wont  to  repeat — I  was  almost  going  to  say  that  he 
would  boast  of — these  acts  of  overbearance  to  which 
he  was  so  often  subjected. 

"  Another  of  the  stiff-necked  sort,"  he  would  say 
after  he  had  bowed  one  of  these  fine  Gentlemen 
obsequiously  out  of  his  office.  "  An  honest,  God- 
fearing Man  is  as  dirt  beneath  the  feet  of  these 
Gallants." 

My  Lord  Stour,  of  a  truth,  was  no  exception  to 
the  rule.  I  have  since  been  assured  that  he  was 
quite  kindly  and  gracious  in  himself,  and  that  his 
faults  were  those  of  the  Milieu  in  which  he  had 
been  brought  up,  rather  than  of  himself. 

Of  course,  You,  dear  Mistress,  were  out  of  the 
house  during  the  whole  of  that  never-to-be- 
forgotten  day  of  which  I  am  about  to  speak,  and 
therefore  knew  nothing  of  the  terrible  Event  which 
then  occurred  and  which,  in  my  humble  judgment, 
completely  revolutionized  Mr.  Betterton's  charac- 
ter for  the  time  being.  But  Fate  had  decreed  that 
I  should  see  it  all.  Every  moment  of  that  awful 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  49 

afternoon  is  indelibly  graven  upon  my  Memory.  I 
had,  however,  neither  the  Chance  nor  the  Oppor- 
tunity to  speak  to  You  of  it  all.  At  first  I  did  not 
think  that  it  would  be  expedient.  The  humiliation 
which  Mr.  Betterton  was  made  to  endure  on  that 
day  was  such  that  I  could  not  bear  to  speak  of  it, 
least  of  all  to  You,  who  still  held  him  in  such  high 
esteem.  And  later  on,  I  still  thought  it  best  to  be 
silent.  Mr.  Betterton  and  You  seemed  to  have 
drifted  apart  so  completely,  that  I  did  not  feel  that 
it  would  do  any  good  to  rake  up  old  hurts,  and  to 
submit  them  to  the  cruel  light  of  day. 

But  now  everything  is  changed.  The  Lady  Bar- 
bara's influence  over  Mr.  Betterton  has  gone, 
never  to  return ;  whilst  his  Heart  once  more  yearns 
for  the  only  true  Love  which  has  ever  glad- 
dened it. 

4 

My  Lord  Stour  came  to  call  upon  Mr.  Theophilus 
Baggs  at  three  o'clock  of  the  afternoon.  Kathleen, 
the  maid  of  all  work,  opened  the  door  to  him,  and 
Mistress  Euphrosine  received  him  in  the  Parlour, 
where  I  was  also  sitting  at  my  desk,  engaged  in 
copying  out  a  lengthy  Indenture. 

"  Master  Baggs  awaits  me,  I  think,"  my  Lord 
said  as  he  entered  the  room. 

Mistress  Euphrosine  made  a  deep  curtsey,  for  she 
was  ever  fond  of  the  Aristocracy. 

"  Will  you  deign  to  enter,  my  Lord  ?  "  she  said. 
"  My  husband  will  wait  upon  your  pleasure." 


50        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"Tell  him  to  be  quick,  then,"  said  my  Lord;  "  for 
I  have  not  a  great  deal  of  time  to  spare." 

He  seated  himself  beside  the  table  and  drew  off 
his  gloves.  He  had  taken  absolutely  no  notice  of 
my  respectful  salutation. 

Mistress  Euphrosine  sailed  out  of  the  room  and 
a  moment  or  two  later  Mr.  Baggs  came  in,  carrying 
a  sheaf  of  papers  and  looking  very  fussy  and 
obsequious. 

My  Lord  did  not  rise  to  greet  him,  only  turned 
his  head  in  his  direction  and  said  curtly : 

"  You  are  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs,  Attorney-at- 
law?" 

"  At  your  Lordship's  service,"  replied  my  em- 
ployer. 

"  Brother-in-law  of  Tom  Betterton,  the  Actor,  so 
I  am  told,"  my  Lord  went  on  with  quiet  conde- 
scension. 

This  innocent  remark,  however,  appeared  to  upset 
Mr.  Baggs.  He  stammered  and  grew  as  red  as  a 
turkey-cock,  not  realizing  that  his  connection  with 
the  great  Actor  was  truly  an  honour  upon  his  Name. 
He  hemmed  and  hawed  and  looked  unutterably  fool- 
ish, as  he  mumbled  confusedly: 

"  Er  .  .  .  that  is  ...  only  occasionally,  my 
Lord  .  .  .  very  occasionally,  I  may  say  .  .  ., 
that  is  ...  I  ..  ." 

"  Pray  calm  yourself,"  broke  in  my  Lord 
haughtily.  "  I  admire  the  fellow's  acting  .  .  .  the 
Man  himself  does  not  exist  for  me." 

"  You  are  most  gracious,  my  Lord,"  murmured 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  51 

Mr.  Baggs  promptly,  whilst  I  could  have  struck 
him  for  his  obsequiousness  and  his  Lordship  for  his 
arrogance. 

It  seems  that  the  matter  which  had  brought  Lord 
Stour  to  Mr.  Baggs'  office  was  one  of  monies  con- 
nected with  the  winding-up  of  the  affairs  of  the 
late  Earl,  uncle  of  the  present  Peer.  I  was  busy 
with  my  work  during  the  time  that  these  affairs 
were  being  discussed  and  did  not  pay  much  heed  to 
the  conversation.  Only  two  fragments  thereof 
struck  mine  ear.  I  remember,  chiefly  because  they 
were  so  characteristic  of  the  two  men — the  Aristo- 
crat and  the  Plebeian — and  of  the  times  in  which  we 
live. 

At  one  time  Mr.  Baggs  ventured  to  enquire  after 
the  health  of  the  Honourable  Mrs.  Stourcliffe,  his 
Lordship's  mother;  and  you  should  have  heard  the 
tone  of  frigid  pride  wherewith  my  Lord  seemed  to 
repel  any  such  presumptuous  enquiries. 

The  other  fragment  which  I  overheard  was  to- 
wards the  end  of  the  interview,  when  Mr.  Theo- 
philus  Baggs,  having  counted  over  the  Money  be- 
fore his  Lordship,  placed  a  Paper  before  him  and 
bade  me  bring  him  a  pen. 

"  What's  this  ?  "  queried  my  Lord,  astonished. 

"  Oh !  "  Mr.  Baggs  stammered,  with  his  habitual 
humility  of  demeanour,  "a  mere  formality,  my 
Lord  ...  er  ...  h'm  .  .  .  only  a  .  .  .  er 
.  .  .  receipt." 

"  A  receipt  ?  "  my  Lord  asked,  with  an  elevation 
of  his  aristocratic  brows.  "  What  for  ?  " 


52       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  Er  .  .  .  er  .  .  . "  Mr.  Baggs  stammered. 
"  For  the  monies,  my  Lord.  That  is  .  .  .  er 
...  if  you  will  deign  to  count  it  over  yourself 
.  .  .  and  see  that  it  is  correct." 

At  this,  my  Lord  rose  from  his  seat,  waved  me 
aside,  took  and  pocketed  the  money.  Then  he  said 
coolly  to  Mr.  Baggs : 

"No,  Sir;  I  do  not  care  to  count.  My  Uncle 
knew  You  to  be  honest,  or  he  would  not  have  placed 
his  affairs  in  your  hands.  That  is  sufficient  for 
me.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  have  received  the  money. 
.  .  .  That  is  sufficient  for  You." 

"  But !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Baggs,  driven  out  of 

his  timidity  by  such  summary  procedure. 

"  Egad,  Sir !  "  broke  in  my  Lord,  more  haughtily 
than  before.  "  Are  you  perchance  supposing  that  I 
might  claim  money  which  I  have  already  had  ?  " 

"No  .  .  .  no ! "  protested  Mr.  Baggs  hastily. 
"  I  assure  you,  my  Lord  ...  er  ...  that  it  is 
.  .  .  h'm  ...  a  mere  formality  .  .  .  and  ..." 

"  My  word,"  retorted  my  Lord  coolly,  "  is  suf- 
ficient formality." 

Whereupon  he  turned  to  the  door,  taking  no  more 
notice  of  me  than  if  I  were  the  doormat.  He 
nodded  to  Mr.  Baggs,  who  was  of  a  truth  too  deeply 
shaken  to  speak,  and  with  a  curt  "  I  wish  you  good- 
day,  Mr.  Notary !  "  strode  out  of  the  room. 

I  doubt  not,  Mistress,  that  You  and  many  others 
of  gentle  Manners  if  not  of  gentle  Birth,  would 
think  that  in  recounting  this  brief  interview  between 
my  employer  and  the  young  Earl  of  Stour,  I  have 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  53 

been  guilty  of  exaggeration  in  depicting  my  Lord's 
arrogance.  Yet,  on  my  word,  it  all  occurred  just 
as  I  have  told  it.  No  doubt  that  Mr.  Baggs'  ob- 
sequiousness must  have  been  irritating,  and  that  it 
literally  called  forth  the  haughty  Retort  which 
otherwise  might  have  remained  unspoken.  I  my- 
self, humble  and  insignificant  as  I  am,  have  oft  felt 
an  almost  uncontrollable  impulse  to  kick  my  worthy 
Employer  into  some  measure  of  manliness. 

For  let  me  assure  You  that,  though  subsequently 
I  became  more  closely  acquainted  with  my  Lord 
Stour,  I  never  heard  him  use  such  haughty  lan- 
guage to  any  of  his  Dependents,  nor  do  I  think  that 
so  gentle  a  Lady  as  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode 
would  have  bestowed  her  fondness  and  regard  upon 
him  had  his  Nature  been  as  supercilious  and  as 
insolent  as  his  Words. 

5 

That  afternoon  was  indeed  destined  to  be  fuller 
of  events  than  I  ever  could  have  anticipated.  No 
sooner  had  I  closed  the  door  upon  my  Lord  Stour, 
when  I  heard  footsteps  ascending  the  stairs,  and 
then  my  Lord's  voice  raised  once  more,  this  time 
with  a  tone  of  pleasure  mingled  with  astonishment. 

"  Wychwoode,  by  gad !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  And 
what  in  Heaven's  name  have  you  come  to  do  in 
the  old  fox's  lair?" 

I  did  not  hear  the  immediate  reply.  More  fussy 
than  ever,  Mr.  Baggs  had  already  signed  to  me  to 
reopen  the  door. 


54       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode,"  he  murmured  hur- 
riedly in  my  ear.  "  One  of  the  younger  sons  of  the 
Marquis  of  Sidbury.  I  am  indeed  fortunate  to-day. 
The  scions  of  our  great  Nobility  do  seek  my  help 
and  counsel  ..."  and  more  such  senseless  words 
did  he  utter,  whilst  the  two  young  Gentlemen  paused 
for  a  moment  upon  the  landing,  talking  with  one 
another. 

"I  thought  you  still  in  France,"  Lord  Douglas 
said  to  his  friend.  "  What  hath  brought  you  home 
so  unexpectedly  ?  " 

"  I  only  arrived  this  morning,"  the  other  replied ; 
"  and  hoped  to  present  my  respects  this  evening,  if 
your  Father  and  the  Lady  Barbara  will  receive 
me." 

"  Indeed,  they'll  be  delighted.  Cela  va  sans  dire, 
my  friend.  My  sister  has  been  rather  pensive  of 
late.  Your  prolonged  absence  may  have  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  her  mood." 

"  May  you  speak  the  truth  there !  "  my  Lord  Stour 
remarked  with  a  sigh. 

"  But  now  you  have  not  told  me,"  rejoined  Lord 
Douglas,  as  he  and  his  friend  finally  went  into  the 
room  and  curtly  acknowledged  Mr.  Baggs'  reiterated 
salutations,  "what  hath  brought  you  to  the  house 
of  this  bobbing  old  Thief  yonder." 

"Private  business,"  replied  Lord  Stour.  "And 
you?" 

"The  affairs  of  England,"  said  the  other,  and 
tossed  his  head  proudly  like  some  young  Lion 
scenting  battle. 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  55 

Before  his  friend  could  utter  another  remark, 
Lord  Douglas  strode  rapidly  across  the  room,  took 
some  papers  out  of  the  inner  pocket  of  his  coat, 
and  called  to  Mr.  Baggs  to  come  up  closer  to 
him. 

"  I  want,"  he  said  in  a  quick  and  peremptory 
whisper,  "  a  dozen  copies  of  this  Deed  done  at  once 
and  by  a  sure  hand.  Can  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  replied  Mr.  Baggs.  "  May  I 
see  what  the  paper  is  ?  " 

I  was  watching  the  pair  of  them ;  so  was  my  Lord 
Stour.  On  his  face  there  came  a  sudden  frown  as 
of  disapproval  and  anxiety. 

"  Wychwoode !  "  he  began. 

But  the  other  did  not  heed  him.  His  eyes — which 
were  so  like  those  of  his  Sister — were  fixed  with  an 
eager,  questioning  gaze  upon  my  Employer.  The 
latter's  face  was  absolutely  expressionless  and  in- 
scrutable whilst  he  scanned  the  paper  which  Lord 
Douglas,  after  a  scarce  perceptible  moment  of  hesi- 
tation, had  handed  to  him  for  perusal. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  quietly,  when  he  had  finished  read- 
ing. "  It  can  be  done." 

"  At  once  ?  "  asked  Lord  Douglas. 

"  At  once.    Yes,  my  Lord." 

"By  a  sure  hand?" 

"  Discretion,  my  Lord,"  replied  Mr.  Baggs,  with 
the  first  show  of  dignity  I  have  ever  seen  him  dis- 
play, "is  a  virtue  in  my  profession,  the  failing  in 
which  would  be  a  lasting  disgrace." 

"  I  rely  even  more  upon  your  convictions,  Mr. 


56        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Baggs,"  Lord  Douglas  rejoined  earnestly,  "  than 
upon  your  virtues." 

"  You  and  your  friends,  my  Lord,  have  deigned 
to  talk  those  matters  over  with  me  many  a  time 
before.  You  and  they  know  that  You  can  count  on 
me." 

Mr.  Baggs  spoke  with  more  Quietude  and  Sim- 
plicity than  was  his  wont  when  dealing  with  some 
of  these  noble  Lords.  You  may  be  sure,  dear  Mis- 
tress, that  I  was  vastly  astonished  at  what  I  heard, 
still  more  at  what  I  guessed.  That  Mr.  Baggs  and 
his  Spouse  belonged  to  the  old  Puritan  Party  which 
had  deplored  the  Restoration  of  the  Kingship,  I 
knew  well  enough.  I  knew  that  both  he  and  Mis- 
tress Euphresine  looked  with  feelings  akin  to  horror 
upon  a  system  of  Government  which  had  for  its 
supreme  head  a  King,  more  than  half  addicted  to 
Popery  and  wholly  to  fast  living,  with  women, 
gambling  and  drinking  all  the  day.  But  what  I  had 
never  even  remotely  guessed  until  now  was  that  he 
had  already  lent  a  helping  hand  to  those  numerous 
Organisations,  which  had  for  their  object  the  over- 
throw of  the  present  loose  form  of  Government,  if 
not  that  of  the  Monarchy  itself. 

I  did  not  know,  in  fact,  that  beneath  a  weak  and 
obsequious  exterior,  my  Employer  hid  the  stuff  of 
which  dangerous  Conspirators  are  often  made. 

For  the 'nonce,  however,  I  imagine  that  he  con- 
tented himself  with  writing  out  Deeds  and  Proc- 
lamations for  the  more  important  Malcontents,  of 
whom  apparently  my  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  S7 

was  one.  He  had  never  taken  me  into  his  confi- 
dence, even  though  he  must  have  known  that  he 
could  always  rely  upon  my  Discretion.  What 
caused  him  to  trust  me  now  more  than  he  had 
done  before,  I  do  not  know.  Perhaps  he  had 
come  to  a  final  decision  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  the 
ultra-Protestant  party,  who  viewed  with  such 
marked  disfavour  the  projects  of  the  King's  mar- 
riage with  the  Popish  Princess  of  Portugal.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  he  came  to  me  without  any  hesitation 
with  the  Papers  which  Lord  Douglas  had  just  en- 
trusted to  him,  and  that  he  at  once  ordered  me  to 
make  the  twelve  copies  which  his  Lordship  desired. 

I  retired  within  the  window-recess  which  You 
know  so  well,  and  wherein  I  am  wont  to  sit  at  my 
copying  work.  Mr.  Baggs  then  set  me  to  my  task, 
after  which  he  drew  the  screen  across  the  recess, 
so  that  I  remained  hidden  from  the  view  of  those 
who  were  still  in  the  room.  I  set  to  with  a  Will,  for 
my  task  was  a  heavy  one.  Twelve  copies  of  a  Mani- 
festo, which  in  itself  covered  two  long  pages. 

A  Manifesto,  in  truth ! 

I  could  scarce  believe  mine  eyes  as  I  read  the 
whole  rambling,  foolish,  hot-headed  Rigmarole. 
Did  I  not  have  the  Paper  actually  in  my  hand,  had 
I  not  seen  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  handing  it 
himself  over  to  Mr.  Baggs,  I  could  not  have  believed 
that  any  Men  in  their  sober  senses  could  have  lent 
a  hand  to  such  criminal  Folly. 

Folly  it  was ;  and  criminal  to  boot ! 

The  whole  matter  is  past  History  now,  and  there 


68       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

can  be  no  harm  in  my  relating  it  when  so  much  of 
it  hath  long  ago  been  made  public. 

That  Manifesto  was  nothing  more  or  less  than  an 
Appeal  to  certain  Sympathizers  to  join  in  one  of  the 
maddest  enterprises  any  man  could  conceive.  It 
seems  that  my  Lady  Castlemaine's  house  was  to  be 
kept  watched  by  Parties  of  these  same  Conspirators, 
until  one  night  when  the  King  paid  her  one  of  his 
customary  evening  Visits.  Then  the  signal  was  to 
be  given,  the  House  surrounded,  my  Lady  Castle- 
maine  kidnapped,  His  Majesty  seized  and  forced  to 
abdicate  in  favour  of  the  young  Duke  of  Monmouth, 
who  would  then  be  proclaimed  King  of  England, 
with  the  Prince  of  Orange  as  Regent. 

Now,  have  you  ever  heard  of  anything  more 
mad?  I  assure  You  that  I  was  literally  staggered, 
and  as  my  Pen  went  wearily  scratching  over  the 
Paper  I  felt  as  if  I  were  in  a  dream,  seeing  before 
me  visions  of  what  the  end  of  such  a  foolish 
Scheme  would  be :  the  Hangman  busy,  the  Prisons 
filled,  sorrow  and  desolation  in  many  homes  that 
had  hoped  to  find  peace  at  last  after  the  turmoil  of 
the  past  twenty  years.  For  the  appeals  were  di- 
rected to  well  accredited  people  outside  London, 
some  of  whom  were  connected  with  the  best  known 
Families  in  the  Country.  I  must,  of  course,  refrain 
from  mentioning  names  that  have  been  allowed  to 
fall  into  oblivion  in  connection  with  the  affair;  but 
You,  dear  Mistress,  would  indeed  be  astonished  if 
You  heard  them  now. 

And  what  caused  me  so  much  worry,  whilst  I 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  59 

wrote  on  till  my  hand  felt  cramped  and  stiff,  was 
mine  own  Helplessness  in  the  matter.  What  could  I 
do,  short  of  betraying  the  trust  which  was  reposed 
in  me? — and  this,  of  course,  was  unthinkable. 

I  wrote  on,  feeling  ever  more  dazed  and  dumb. 
From  the  other  side  of  the  screen  the  Voices  of  the 
two  young  Gentlemen  came  at  times  to  mine  ear  with 
unusual  clearness,  at  others  only  like  an  intermittent 
hum.  Mr.  Baggs  had  apparently  left  the  room,  and 
the  others  had  no  doubt  become  wholly  oblivious  of 
my  Presence.  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  had  told 
his  Friend  something  of  his  madcap  Schemes;  his 
voice  sounded  both  eager  and  enthusiastic.  But  my 
Lord  Stour  demurred. 

"  I  am  a  Soldier,"  he  said  at  one  time ;  "  not  a 
Politician." 

"  That's  just  it !  "  the  other  argued  with  earnest- 
ness. "  It  is  Men  like  you  that  we  want.  We  must 
crush  that  spendthrift  Wanton  who  holds  the  King 
in  her  thrall,  and  we  must  force  a  dishonoured 
Monarch  to  give  up  the  Crown  of  England  to  one 
who  is  worthier  to  wear  it,  since  he  himself,  even  in 
these  few  brief  months,  has  already  covered  it  with 
infamy." 

"You  have  set  yourself  a  difficult  task,  my 
friend,"  my  Lord  Stour  urged  more  soberly;  "and 
a  dangerous  one,  too." 

"  Only  difficult  and  dangerous,"  retorted  Lord 
Douglas,  "  whilst  such  Men  as  you  still  hold  aloof." 

"  I  tell  you,  I  am  no  Politician,"  his  Friend  re- 
joined somewhat  impatiently. 


60        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  But  You  are  a  Man,  and  not  a  senseless  profli- 
gate— an  earnest  Protestant,  who  must  loathe  that 
cobweb  of  Popery  which  overlies  the  King's  every 
Action,  and  blurs  his  vision  of  duty  and  of  dignity." 

"Yes— but " 

Then  it  was  that  Lord  Douglas,  with  great  pa- 
tience and  earnestness,  gave  to  his  Friend  a  detailed 
account  of  his  criminal  Scheme — for  criminal  it  was, 
however  much  it  might  be  disguised  under  the  cloak 
of  patriotism  and  religious  fervour.  How  Lord 
Stour  received  the  communication,  I  could  not  say. 
I  had  ceased  to  listen  and  was  concentrating  my 
mind  on  my  uncongenial  task.  Moreover,  I  fancy 
that  Lord  Stour  did  not  say  much.  He  must  have 
disapproved  of  it,  as  any  right-minded  Man  would, 
and  no  doubt  tried  his  best  to  bring  Lord  Douglas 
to  a  more  rational  state  of  mind.  But  this  is  mere 
conjecture  on  my  part,  and,  of  course,  I  could  not 
see  his  face,  which  would  have  been  a  clear  index 
to  his  thoughts.  At  one  time  I  heard  him  exclaim 
indignantly : 

"  But  surely  You  will  not  entrust  the  distribution 
of  those  Manifestos,  which  may  cost  you  your  head, 
to  that  obsequious  and  mealy-mouthed  notary?" 

Mr.  Baggs  should  have  heard  the  contempt 
wherewith  my  Lord  uttered  those  words !  It  would 
have  taught  him  how  little  regard  his  servile  ways 
had  won  for  him,  and  how  much  more  thoroughly 
would  he  have  been  respected  had  he  adopted  a  more 
manly  bearing  towards  his  Clients,  however  highly 
these  may  have  been  placed. 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  61 

After  this,  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  became 
even  more  persuasive  and  eager.  Perhaps  he  had 
noted  the  first  signs  of  yielding  in  the  Attitude  of 
his  Friend. 

"  No,  no ! "  he  said.  "  And  that  is  our  serious 
trouble.  I  and  those  who  are  at  one  with  me  feel 
that  we  are  surrounded  with  spies.  We  do  want  a 
sure  Hand — a  Hand  that  will  not  err  and  that  we 
can  trust — to  distribute  the  Manifestos,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, to  bring  us  back  decisive  Answers.  Some  of 
the  Men  with  whom  we  wish  to  communicate  live 
at  some  considerable  distance  from  town.  We  only 
wish  to  approach  influential  people;  but  some  of 
these  seldom  come  to  London ;  in  fact,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  Members  of  a  venal  Government  and 
of  a  few  effete  Peers  as  profligate  as  the  King  him- 
self, but  few  Men,  worthy  of  the  name,  do  elect  to 
live  in  this  degenerate  City." 

His  talk  was  somewhat  rambling;  perhaps  I  did 
not  catch  all  that  he  said.  After  awhile  Lord  Stour 
remarked  casually: 

"  And  so  You  thought  of  me  as  your  possible 
Emissary?" 

"Was  I  wrong?"  retorted  Lord  Douglas  hotly. 

"Nay,  my  friend,"  rejoined  the  other  coldly.  "  I 
am  honoured  by  this  trust  which  You  would  place 
in  me ;  but " 

"  But  You  refuse?  "  broke  in  Lord  Douglas  with 
bitter  reproach. 

I  imagine  that  my  Lord  Stour*s  reply  must  have 
been  an  unsatisfactory  one  to  his  Friend,  for  the 


62        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

latter  uttered  an  exclamation  of  supreme  impatience. 
I  heard  but  little  more  of  their  conversation  just 
then,  for  the  noise  in  the  Street  below,  which  had 
been  attracting  my  Attention  on  and  off  for  some 
time,  now  grew  in  intensity,  and,  curious  to  know 
what  it  portended,  I  rose  from  my  chair  and 
leaned  out  of  the  window  to  see  what  was  hap- 
pening. 

From  the  window,  as  You  know,  one  gets  a  view 
of  the  corner  of  our  Street  as  it  debouches  into  Fleet 
Street  by  the  Spread  Eagle  tavern,  and  even  the 
restricted  View  which  I  thus  had  showed  me  at  once 
that  some  kind  of  rioting  was  going  on.  Not  riot- 
ing of  an  ordinary  kind,  for  of  a  truth  we  who  live 
in  the  heart  of  the  City  of  London  are  used  to  its 
many  cries ;  to  the  "  Make  way  there !  "  of  the  Sedan 
Chairman  and  the  "  Make  room  there ! "  of  the 
Drivers  of  wheel-barrows,  all  mingling  with  the 
"  Stand  up  there,  you  blind  dog !  "  bawled  by  every 
Carman  as  he  tries  to  squeeze  his  way  through  the 
throngs  in  the  streets. 

No!  this  time  it  seemed  more  than  that,  and  I, 
who  had  seen  the  crowds  which  filled  the  Streets  of 
London  from  end  to  end  on  the  occasion  of  the 
death  of  the  Lord  Protector,  and  had  seen  the 
merry-makers  who  had  made  those  same  streets 
impassable  when  King  Charles  entered  London  a 
little  more  than  a  year  ago,  I  soon  realized  that  the 
Crowd  which  I  saw  flocking  both  up  and  down 
Fleet  Street  was  in  an  ugly  mood. 

At  first  I  thought  that  some  of  those  abominable 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  63 

vagabonds  from  White  friars — those  whom  we  call 
the  Alsatians,  and  who  are  in  perpetual  conflict  with 
the  law — had  come  out  in  a  body  from  their  sink  of 
iniquity  close  by  and  had  started  one  of  their 
periodical  combats  with  the  Sheriffs'  Officers;  but 
soon  I  recognized  some  faces  familiar  to  me  among 
the  crowd  as  they  ran  past  the  corner — Men, 
Women  and  Boys  who,  though  of  a  rough  and  tur- 
bulent Character,  could  in  no  way  be  confounded 
with  the  law-breaking  Alsatians. 

There  was,  for  instance,  the  Tinker,  whom  I 
knew  well  by  sight.  He  was  running  along,  knock- 
ing his  skillets  and  frying-pans  against  one  another 
as  he  passed,  shouting  lustily  the  while.  Then  there 
was  a  sooty  chimney-sweep,  whom  I  knew  to  be  an 
honest  Man,  and  the  broom  Men  with  their  Boys, 
and  many  law-abiding  Pedestrians  who,  fearful  of 
the  crowd,  were  walking  in  the  traffic  way,  meekly 
giving  the  wall  to  the  more  roisterous  throng.  They 
all  seemed  to  be  a  part  of  that  same  Crowd  which 
was  scampering  and  hurrying  up  and  down  Fleet 
Street,  shouting  and  causing  a  disturbance  such  as 
I  do  not  remember  ever  having  seen  before. 

I  should  have  liked  to  have  gazed  out  of  the 
Window  until  I  had  ascertained  positively  what  the 
noise  was  about;  but  I  remembered  that  my  task 
was  only  half-accomplished  and  that  I  had  at  the 
least  another  half-dozen  Manifestos  to  write  out. 
I  was  on  the  point  of  sitting  down  once  more  to 
my  Work  when  I  heard  Lord  Douglas  Wych- 
woode's  voice  quite  close  to  the  screen,  saying 


64       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

anxiously,  as  if  in  answer  to  some  remark  made  by 
his  friend : 

"  I  trust  not  My  Sister  is  out  in  her  chair 
somewhere  in  this  neighbourhood,  and  only  with 
her  two  Bearers." 

Apparently  the  two  Gentlemen's  attention  had 
also  been  arrested  by  the  tumult.  The  next  moment 
Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs  came  in,  and  immediately 
they  both  plied  him  simultaneously  with  questions. 
"  What  were  those  strange  cries  in  the  street  ?  Was 
there  likely  to  be  a  riot?  What  was  the  cause  of 
the  tumult?  "  All  of  which  Mr.  Baggs  felt  himself 
unable  to  answer.  In  the  end,  he  said  that  he  would 
walk  down  to  the  corner  of  the  Street  and  ascertain 
what  was  happening. 

Ensconced  within  the  window  recess  and  hidden 
from  view  by  the  screen,  I  soon  gave  up  all  attempt 
at  continuing  my  work.  Somehow,  the  two  Gentle- 
men's anxiety  about  the  Lady  Barbara  had  com- 
municated itself  to  me.  But  my  thoughts,  of  course, 
were  of  You.  Fortunately  for  my  peace  of  mind,  I 
knew  that  You  were  safe;  at  some  distance,  in  fact, 
from  the  scene  of  the  present  tumult.  Nevertheless, 
I  had  already  made  up  my  mind  that  if  the  rioting 
spread  to  the  neighbouring  streets,  I  would  slip  out 
presently  and  go  as  far  as  Dorset  Gardens,  where 
you  were  busy  at  rehearsal,  and  there  wait  for  you 
until  you  came  out  of  the  Theatre,  when,  if  you 
were  unattended,  I  could  escort  you  home. 

I  could  not  myself  have  explained  why  the  Noise 
outside  and  the  obvious  rough  temper  of  the  People 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  65 

should  have  agitated  me  as  they  undoubtedly 
did. 

Anon,  Mr.  Baggs  returned  with  a  veritable  sack- 
ful of  news. 

"  There  is  a  great  tumult  all  down  the  neigh- 
bourhood," said  he,  "because  Lady  Castlemaine  is 
even  now  at  the  India  House  drinking  tea,  and  a  lot 
of  rowdy  folk  have  made  up  their  minds  to  give  her 
a  rough  welcome  when  she  comes  out.  She  is  not 
popular  just  now,  my  Lady  Castlemaine,"  Mr. 
Baggs  continued  complacently,  as  he  gave  a  look  of 
understanding  to  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode, 
"  And  I  fancy  that  she  will  experience  an  un- 
pleasant quarter  of  an  hour  presently." 

"  But,  surely,"  protested  my  Lord  Stour,  "  a 
whole  mob  will  not  be  allowed  to  attack  a  defence- 
less woman,  however  unpopular  she  may  be !  " 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,"  rejoined  Mr.  Baggs  with  an 
indifferent  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  "  a  London  mob 
is  not  like  to  be  squeamish  when  its  temper  is 
aroused;  and  just  now,  when  work  is  scarce  and 
food  very  dear,  the  sight  of  her  Ladyship's  gorgeous 
liveries  are  apt  to  exasperate  those  who  have  an 
empty  stomach." 

"But  what  will  they  do  to  her?"  urged  my 
Lord,  whose  manly  feelings  were  evidently  out- 
raged at  the  prospect  of  seeing  any  Woman  a  prey 
to  an  angry  rabble. 

'  That  I  cannot  tell  you,  my  Lord,"  replied  Mr. 
Baggs.  '  The  crowd  hath  several  ways  of  showing 
its  displeasure.  You  know,  when  a  Frenchman  or 


66        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

some  other  Foreigner  shows  his  face  in  the  Streets 
of  London,  how  soon  he  becomes  the  butt  of  passing 
missiles.  The  sweep  will  leave  a  sooty  imprint  upon 
his  coat;  a  baker's  basket  will  cover  him  with  dust; 
at  every  hackney-coach  stand,  some  facetious  coach- 
man will  puff  the  froth  of  his  beer  into  his  face. 
Well!  you  may  draw  your  own  conclusions,  my 
Lord,  as  to  what  will  happen  anon,  when  my  Lady 
Castlemaine  hath  finished  drinking  her  dish  of 
tea!" 

"  But  surely  no  one  would  treat  a  Lady  so  ?  "  once 
more  ejaculated  my  Lord  Stour  hotly. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  retorted  Mr.  Baggs  drily.  "  But 
then  you,  see,  my  Lord,  Lady  Castlemaine  is  ... 
Well;  she  is  Lady  Castlemaine  .  .  .  and  at  the 
corner  of  our  street  just  now  I  heard  murmurs  of 
the  Pillory  or  even  worse  for  her " 

"  But  this  is  monstrous — infamous !  " 

"  And  will  be  well  deserved,"  here  broke  in  Lord 
Douglas  decisively.  "  Fie  on  You,  Friend,  to  worry 
over  that  baggage,  whilst  we  are  still  in  doubt  if 
my  Sister  be  safe." 

"  Yes ! "  murmured  Lord  Stour,  with  a  sudden 
note  of  deep  solicitude  in  his  voice.  "  My  God !  I 
was  forgetting ! " 

He  ran  to  the  window — the  one  next  to  the  recess 
where  I  still  remained  ensconced — threw  open  the 
casement  and  gazed  out  even  more  anxiously  than  I 
had  been  doing  all  along.  Mr.  Baggs  in  the  mean- 
while endeavoured  to  reassure  Lord  Douglas. 

"  If,"  he  said,  "  her  Ladyship  knows  that  your 


A  CRIMINAL  FOLLY  67 

Lordship  hath  come  here  to  visit  me,  she  may  seek 
shelter  under  my  humble  roof." 

"God  grant  that  she  may!  "  rejoined  the  young 
Man  fervently. 

We  all  were  on  tenterhooks,  I  as  much  as  the 
others ;  and  we  all  gazed  out  agitatedly  in  the  direc- 
ton  of  Fleet  Street.  Then,  all  at  once,  my  Lord 
Stour  gave  a  cry  of  relief. 

"  There's  the  chaise !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  has 
just  turned  the  corner  of  this  street.  .  .  .  No! 
not  that  way,  Douglas  ...  on  your  right.  .  .  . 
That  is  Lady  Barbara's  chaise,  is  it  not?  " 

"Yes,  it  is!"  ejaculated  the  other.  "Thank 
Heaven,  her  man  Pyncheon  has  had  the  good 
sense  to  bring  her  here.  Quick,  Mr.  Notary!"  he 
added.  "The  door!" 

The  next  moment  a  Sedan  chair  borne  by  two 
men  in  handsome  liveries  of  blue  and  silver  came 
to  a  halt  just  below.  Already  Mr.  Baggs  had  hur- 
ried down  the  stairs.  He  would,  I  know,  yield  to  no 
one  in  the  privilege  of  being  the  first  to  make  the 
Lady  Barbara  welcome  in  his  House.  The  Excite- 
ment and  Anxiety  were  momentarily  over,  and  I 
could  view  quite  composedly  from  above  the  beauti- 
ful Lady  Barbara  as  she  stepped  out  of  her  Chair,  a 
little  flurried  obviously,  for  she  clasped  and  un- 
clasped her  cloak  with  a  nervy,  trembling  hand. 

A  second  or  two  later,  I  heard  her  high-heeled 
shoes  pattering  up  the  stairs,  whilst  her  Men  with 
the  Chair  sought  refuge  in  a  quiet  tavern  higher  up 
in  Chancery  Lane. 


CHAPTER  IV 
MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY 


I  would  that  You,  fair  Mistress,  had  seen  the 
Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode  as  I  beheld  her  on  that 
never-to-be-forgotten  afternoon,  her  Cheeks  of  a 
delicate  pallor,  her  golden  Hair  slightly  disarranged, 
her  Lips  trembling  with  excitement.  You,  who  are 
so  inexpressibly  beautiful,  would  have  been  generous 
enough  to  give  ungrudging  Admiration  to  what  was 
so  passing  fair. 

She  was  panting  a  little,  for  obviously  she  had 
been  scared,  and  clung  to  her  Brother  as  if  for  pro- 
tection. But  I  noticed  that  directly  she  entered  the 
room  her  Eyes  encountered  those  of  my  Lord  Stour, 
and  that  at  sight  of  him  a  happy  smile  at  once  over- 
spread and  illumined  her  Face. 

"  I  am  so  thankful,  Douglas,  dear,"  she  said, 
"  that  Pyncheon  happened  to  know  you  were  here. 
He  also  knew  the  way  to  Mr.  Baggs'  house,  and  as 
soon  as  he  realized  that  the  crowd  in  Fleet  Street 
was  no  ordinary  one,  he  literally  took  to  his  heels 
and  brought  me  along  here  in  amazingly  quick  time. 
But,  oh !  "  she  added  lightly,  "  I  can  tell  You  that  I 
was  scared.  My  heart  went  thumping  and  I  have 
not  yet  recovered  my  breath." 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       69 

Her  cheeks  now  had  become  suffused  with  a  blush 
and  her  blue  eyes  sparkled,  more  with  excitement 
than  fear,  I  imagined.  Certain  it  is  that  her  Beauty 
was  enhanced  thereby.  But  Lord  Douglas,  with  a 
Brother's  privilege,  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said 
with  a  show  of  banter : 

"  Methinks,  Babs,  dear,  that  your  heart  hath 
chiefly  gone  a-thumping  because  you  are  surprised 
at  finding  Stour  here." 

She  gave  a  gay  little  laugh — the  laugh  of  one  who 
is  sure  of  Love  and  of  Happiness;  the  same  laugh, 
dear  Mistress,  for  which  I  have  hearkened  of  late 
in  vain  from  You. 

"  I  only  arrived  in  London  this  morning,"  my 
Lord  Stour  explained. 

"  And  hastened  to  pay  your  respects  to  the  law 
rather  than  to  me,"  Lady  Barbara  taunted  him 
lightly. 

"  I  would  not  have  ventured  to  present  myself  at 
this  hour,"  he  rejoined.  "  And,  apparently,  would 
have  found  the  Lady  Barbara  from  home." 

"  So  a  beneficent  Fairy  whispered  to  You  to  go 
and  see  Mr.  Notary,  and  thus  arranged  everything 
for  the  best." 

'  The  beneficent  Fairy  had  her  work  cut  out, 
then,"  Lord  Douglas  remarked,  somewhat  im- 
patiently, I  thought. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  retorted. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "in  order  to  secure  this  tryst, 
the  beneficient  Fairy  had  first  to  bring  me  hither  as 
well  as  Stour,  and  Lady  Castlemaine  to  the  India 


70       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

House.  Then  she  had  to  inflame  the  temper  of  a 
whole  Crowd  of  Roisterers  sufficiently  to  cause  the 
worthy  Pyncheon  to  take  to  his  heels,  with  you  in 
the  chair.  In  fact,  the  good  Fairy  must  have  been 
to  endless  trouble  to  arrange  this  meeting  'twixt 
Lady  Barbara  and  her  Lover,  when  but  a  few  hours 
later  that  same  meeting  would  have  come  about  quite 
naturally." 

"  Nay,  then ! "  she  riposted  with  perfect  good 
humour,  "  let  us  call  it  a  happy  Coincidence,  and 
say  no  more  about  it." 

Even  then  her  Brother  uttered  an  angry  exclama- 
tion. He  appeared  irritated  by  the  placidity  and 
good  humour  of  the  others.  His  nerves  were  evi- 
dently on  edge,  and  while  my  Lord  Stour,  with  the 
egoism  peculiar  to  Lovers,  became  absorbed  in 
whispering  sweet  nothings  in  Lady  Barbara's  ears, 
Lord  Douglas  took  to  pacing  up  and  down  the  Room 
like  some  impatient  Animal. 

I  watched  the  three  of  them  with  ever-growing 
interest.  Being  very  sensitive  to  outward  influences, 
I  was  suddenly  obsessed  with  the  feeling  that 
through  some  means  or  other  these  three  Persons,  so 
far  above  me  in  station,  would  somehow  become 
intermixed  with  my  Life,  and  that  it  had  suddenly 
become  my  Duty  to  watch  them  and  to  listen  to  what 
they  were  saying. 

I  had  no  desire  to  pry  upon  them,  of  course ;  so 
I  pray  You  do  not  misunderstand  nor  condemn  me 
for  thus  remaining  hidden  behind  the  screen  and  for 
not  betraying  my  Presence  to  them  all.  Certainly  my 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       71 

Lord  Stour  and  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  had 
known  at  one  time  that  I  was  in  the  Room.  They 
had  seen  me  installed  in  the  window-recess,  with 
the  treasonable  Manifestos  which  I  had  been  set  to 
copy.  But  since  then  the  two  Gentlemen  had  ob- 
viously become  wholly  oblivious  of  my  Presence, 
and  the  Lady  Barbara  did  not  of  course  even  know 
of  my  Existence,  whilst  I  did  not  feel  disposed  to 
reveal  myself  to  any  of  them  just  yet. 


Lord  Douglas,  thereafter,  was  for  braving  the 
Rioters  and  for  returning  home.  But  Lady  Bar- 
bara and  Lord  Stour,  feeling  happy  in  one  another's 
Company,  were  quite  content  to  bide  for  a  time 
under  Mr.  Baggs'  sheltering  roof. 

"  You  must  have  patience,  Douglas,"  she  said  to 
her  Brother.  "  I  assure  you  that  the  Streets  are 
not  safe.  Some  rowdy  Folk  have  set  themselves  to 
attacking  every  chair  they  see  and  tearing  the  gold 
and  silver  lace  from  the  Chairmen's  liveries.  Even 
the  side-streets  are  thronged.  Pyncheon  will  tell 
you  of  the  difficulty  he  had  in  bringing  me  here." 

"  But  we  cannot  wait  until  night!  "  Lord  Douglas 
urged  impatiently. 

"No!"  said  she.  "Only  an  hour  or  two.  As 
soon  as  the  people  have  seen  Lady  Castlemaine  and 
have  vented  their  wrath  on  her,  they  will  begin  to 
disperse,  chiefly  into  the  neighbouring  Taverns,  and 
then  we  can  slip  quietly  away." 

"  Or  else,"  broke  in  Lord  Stour  hotly,  "  surely 


72       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

the  watchmen  will  come  anon  and  disperse  that 
rabble  ere  it  vents  its  spite  upon  a  defenceless 
Woman!" 

"  A  defenceless  Woman,  you  call  her,  my  Lord?  " 
Lady  Barbara  retorted  reproachfully.  "  She  is  the 
most  dangerous  Enemy  England  hath  at  this 
moment ! " 

"  You  are  severe,  Lady  Barbara " 

"  Severe !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  vehement  tone 
of  resentment.  "Ah!  you  have  been  absent,  my 
Lord.  You  do  not  know — You  do  not  understand ! 
Over  abroad  You  did  not  realise  the  Misery,  the 
Famine,  that  is  stalking  our  land.  Money  that 
should  be  spent  on  reclaiming  our  Industries,  which 
have  suffered  through  twenty  years  of  civil  strife, 
or  in  helping  the  poor  to  tide  over  these  years  of 
lean  Harvests,  is  being  lavished  by  an  irresponsible 
Monarch  upon  a  greedy  Wanton,  who " 

"Barbara!" 

She  paused,  recalled  to  herself  by  the  stern  voice 
of  her  Brother.  She  had  allowed  her  Indignation 
to  master  her  maidenly  reserve.  Her  cheeks  were 
aflame  now,  her  lips  quivering  with  Passion.  Of  a 
truth,  she  was  a  Woman  to  be  admired,  for,  unlike 
most  of  her  sex,  she  had  profound  feelings  of 
Patriotism  and  of  Charity;  she  had  valour,  enthusi- 
asm, temperament,  and  was  not  ashamed  to  speak 
what  was  in  her  mind.  I  watched  my  Lord  Stour 
while  she  spoke,  and  saw  how  deeply  he  worshipped 
her.  Now  she  encountered  his  Gaze,  and  heavy 
tears  came  into  her  Eyes. 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       73 

"  Ah,  my  Lord,"  she  said  gently,  "  you  will  see 
sadder  sights  in  the  Streets  of  London  to-day  than 
ever  you  did  in  the  Wars  after  the  fiercest  Battles." 
Tis  no  use  appealing  to  him,  Babs,"  Lord 
Douglas  interposed  with  obvious  exacerbation.  "  A 
moment  ago  I  told  him  of  our  Plans.  I  begged  him 
to  lend  us  his  sword  and  his  hand  to  strike  a  blow 
at  the  Profligacy  and  Wantonness  which  is  sending 
England  to  perdition  worse  than  ever  before " 

Lady  Barbara  turned  great,  reproachful  eyes  on 
my  Lord. 

"  And  you  refused  ?  "  she  whispered. 

My  Lord  looked  confused.  All  at  once,  I  knew 
that  he  was  already  wavering.  A  weak  Man,  per- 
haps; he  was  deeply,  desperately  enamoured.  I 
gathered  that  he  had  not  seen  the  Lady  Barbara  for 
some  months.  No  doubt  his  Soul  hungered  for  her 
Smiles.  He  was  the  sort  of  Man,  methinks,  who 
would  barter  everything — even  Honour — for  the 
Woman  he  loved.  And  I  do  not  think  that  he  cared 
for  much  beyond  that.  His  Father,  an  you  remem- 
ber, fought  on  the  Parliament  side.  I  do  not  say 
that  he  was  one  of  the  Regicides,  but  he  did  not 
raise  a  finger  to  help  or  to  serve  his  King.  And  he 
had  been  a  rigid  Protestant.  All  the  Stourcliffes  of 
Stour  were  that ;  and  the  present  Earl's  allegiance  to 
King  Charles  could  only  have  been  very  perfunc- 
tory. Besides  which,  this  is  the  age  of  Conspiracies 
and  of  political  Factions.  I  doubt  not  but  it  will  be 
another  twenty  years  before  the  Country  is  really 
satisfied  with  its  form  of  Government.  I  myself — 


74       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

though  God  knows  I  am  but  a  humble  Clerk — could 
wish  that  this  Popish  marriage  for  the  King  had 
not  been  decided  on.  We  do  not  want  religious  fac- 
tions warring  with  one  another  again. 

But  all  this  is  beside  the  mark,  nor  would  I  dwell 
on  it  save  for  my  desire  to  be,  above  all,  just  to  these 
three  People  who  were  destined  to  do  the  Man  I 
love  best  in  the  world  an  irreparable  injury. 

As  I  said  before,  I  could  see  that  my  Lord  Stour 
was  hesitating.  Now  Lady  Barbara  invited  him  to 
sit  beside  her  upon  the  Sofa,  and  she  began  talking 
to  him  quietly  and  earnestly,  Lord  Douglas  only 
putting  in  a  word  or  so  now  and  again.  What  they 
said  hath  little  to  do  with  the  portent  of  my  Narra- 
tive, nor  will  I  plague  You  with  the  telling  of  it. 
Those  people  are  nothing  to  You ;  they  have  nothing 
to  do  with  humble  Plebeians  like  ourselves ;  they  are 
a  class  apart,  and  we  should  never  mix  ourselves  up 
with  them  or  their  affairs,  as  Mr.  Betterton  hath 
since  learned  to  his  hurt. 

3 

While  they  were  talking  together,  the  three  of 
them,  I  tried  once  more  to  concentrate  my  mind 
upon  my  work,  and  finished  off  another  two  or  three 
copies  of  the  treasonable  Manifesto. 

All  this  while,  you  must  remember  that  the  noise 
and  rowdiness  in  the  streets  had  in  no  way  dimin- 
ished. Rather  had  it  grown  in  intensity.  The 
people  whom  I  watched  from  time  to  time  and  saw 
darting  down  Chancery  Lane  or  across  the  corner 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       75 

of  Fleet  Street,  looked  more  excited,  more  bent  on 
mischief,  than  before.  I  had  seen  a  few  stones  fly- 
ing about,  and  once  or  twice  heard  the  ominous 
crash  of  broken  glass. 

Then  suddenly  there  came  an  immense  Cry,  which 
was  not  unlike  the  snarling  of  hundreds  of  angry 
Beasts.  I  knew  what  that  meant.  My  Lady  Castle- 
maine  was  either  on  the  point  of  quitting  the  India 
House  or  had  been  otherwise  spied  by  the  Populace. 
I  could  no  longer  restrain  my  Curiosity.  Once  more 
I  cast  my  papers  aside  and  leaned  out  of  the  window. 
The  shouting  and  booing  had  become  more  and  more 
ominous.  Apparently,  too,  a  company  of  the  City 
Watchmen  had  arrived.  They  were  trying  to  force 
through  the  throng,  and  their  calls  of  "  Make  way 
there !  "  sounded  more  and  more  peremptory.  But 
what  was  a  handful  of  Watchmen  beside  an  excited 
crowd  of  Rioters  determined  to  wreak  their  temper 
upon  an  unpopular  bit  of  baggage?  I  doubt  not  but 
that  His  Majesty's  Body-guard  could  alone  restore 
order  now  and  compass  the  safety  of  the  Lady. 

As  I  leaned  out  of  the  Window  I  could  see  stones 
and  miscellaneous  missiles  flying  in  every  direction ; 
and  then  suddenly  I  had  a  clear  vision  of  a  gorgeous 
Sedan  Chair  escorted  by  a  dozen  or  more  City 
Watchmen,  who  were  trying  to  forge  a  way  for  it 
through  the  Crowd.  They  were  trying  to  reach  the 
corner  of  our  Street,  hoping  no  doubt  to  turn  up 
this  way  and  thus  effect  an  escape  by  way  of  the 
Lower  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  and  Drury  Lane,  while 
the  Crowd  would  of  necessity  be  kept  back  through 


76       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

/ 

the  narrowness  of  the  Streets  and  the  intricacies  of 
the  Alleys. 

The  whole  point  now  was  whether  the  Chairmen 
could  reach  our  corner  before  the  Roisterers  had 
succeeded  in  beating  back  the  Watchmen,  when  of 
course  they  meant  to  tear  Lady  Castlemaine  out  of 
her  chair.  Poor,  wretched  Woman!  She  must 
have  been  terribly  frightened.  I  know  that  I  my- 
self felt  woefully  agitated.  Leaning  out  toward  the 
street,  I  could  see  Lady  Barbara's  pretty  head  at 
the  next  window  and  my  Lord  Stour  and  Lord 
Douglas  close  beside  her.  They  too  had  forgotten  all 
about  their  talk  and  their  plans  and  Conspiracies, 
and  were  gazing  out  on  the  exciting  Spectacle  with 
mixed  feelings,  I  make  no  doubt.  As  for  me,  I  feel 
quite  sure  that  but  for  my  sense  of  utter  helpless- 
ness, I  should  have  rushed  out  even  then  and  tried 
to  lend  a  hand  in  helping  an  unfortunate  Woman  out 
of  so  terrible  a  Predicament,  and  I  marvelled  how 
deep  must  have  been  the  hatred  for  her,  felt  by 
Gentlemen  like  my  Lord  Stour  and  Lord  Douglas 
Wychwoode,  that  their  Sense  of  Chivalry  forsook 
them  so  completely  at  this  Hour,  that  neither  of 
them  attempted  to  run  to  her  aid  or  even  suggested 
that  she  should  find  shelter  in  this  House. 

As  for  Mr.  Baggs,  he  was  not  merely  idly  curious ; 
he  was  delighted  at  the  idea  that  my  Lady  Castle- 
maine should  be  maltreated  by  the  mob;  whilst 
Mistress  Euphrosine's  one  idea  was  the  hope  that 
if  the  Rioters  meant  to  murder  the  Baggage,  they 
would  not  do  so  outside  this  door.  She  and  Mr. 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       77 

Baggs  had  come  running  into  the  Parlour  the  mo- 
ment the  rioting  reached  its  height,  and  of  a  truth, 
dear  Mistress,  you  would  have  been  amused  to  see 
us  all  at  the  three  front  windows  of  the  house — 
three  groups  watching  the  distant  and  wildly  excit- 
ing happenings  in  Fleet  Street.  There  was  I  at  one 
window;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baggs  at  the  other;  Lady 
Barbara  and  the  two  Gallants  at  the  third.  And  the 
ejaculations  which  came  from  one  set  of  Watchers 
or  the  other  would  fill  several  pages  of  my  narrative. 

Mistress  Euphrosine  was  in  abject  fear.  "  Oh ! 
I  hope,"  cried  she  now  and  again,  "  that  they  won't 
come  this  way.  There'll  be  murder  upon  our  door- 
step!" 

My  Lord  Stour  had  just  one  revulsion  of  feeling 
in  favour  of  the  unfortunate  Castlemaine.  "  Come, 
Douglas !  "  he  called  at  one  time.  "  Let's  to  her  aid. 
Remember  she  is  a  Woman,  after  all !  " 

But  Lady  Barbara  placed  a  restraining  hand  upon 
his  arm,  and  Lord  Douglas  said  with  a  rough  laugh : 
"  I  would  not  lift  a  finger  to  defend  her.  Let  the 
Devil  befriend  her,  an  he  list." 

And  all  the  while  the  mob  hissed  and  hooted,  and 
stones  flew  like  hail  all  around  the  Chaise. 

"  Oh !  they'll  murder  her !  They'll  murder  her !  " 
called  Mistress  Euphrosine  piously. 

"  And  save  honest  men  a  vast  deal  of  trouble 
thereby,"  Mr.  Baggs  concluded  sententiously. 

The  Watchmen  were  now  forging  ahead.  With 
their  sticks  and  staves  they  fought  their  way  through 
bravely,  heading  the  chair  towards  our  street.  But 


78       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

even  so,  methought  that  they  stood  but  little  Chance 
of  saving  my  Lady  Castlemaine  in  the  end.  The 
Crowd  had  guessed  their  purpose  already,  and  were 
quite  ready  to  give  Chase.  The  Chairmen  with  their 
heavy  burden  could  be  no  match  against  them  in  a 
Race,  and  the  final  capture  of  the  unfortunate 
Woman  was  only  now  a  question  of  time. 

Then  suddenly  I  gave  a  gasp.  Of  a  truth  I  could 
scarce  believe  in  what  I  saw.  Let  me  try  and  put 
the  picture  clearly  before  you,  dear  Mistress ;  for  in 
truth  You  would  have  loved  to  see  it  as  I  did  then. 
About  half  a  dozen  Watchmen  had  by  great  exertion 
succeeded  in  turning  the  corner  of  our  Street.  They 
were  heading  towards  us  with  only  a  comparatively 
small  knot  of  roisterers  to  contend  against,  and  the 
panting,  struggling  Chairmen  with  the  Sedan  Chair 
were  immediately  behind  them. 

As  far  as  I  could  see,  the  Crowd  had  not  ex- 
pected this  Manoeuvre,  and  the  sudden  turning  off 
of  their  prey  at  right  angles  disconcerted  the  fore- 
most among  them,  for  the  space  of  a  second  or  two. 
This  gave  the  Chairmen  a  brief  start  up  the  street. 
But  the  very  next  moment  the  Crowd  realized  the 
situation,  and  with  a  wild  war-cry,  turned  to  give 
Chase,  when  a  Man  suddenly  stepped  out  from  no- 
where in  particular  that  I  could  see,  unless  it  was 
from  the  Spread  Eagle  tavern,  and  stood  at  the 
bottom  of  the  street  between  two  posts,  all  alone, 
facing  the  mob. 

His  Appearance,  I  imagine,  had  been  so  unex- 
pected as  well  as  so  sudden,  that  the  young 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       79 

Roisterers  in  the  front  of  the  Crowd  paused — like  a 
Crowd  always  will  when  something  totally  unex- 
pected doth  occur.  The  Man,  of  course,  had  his 
back  towards  us,  but  I  had  recognized  him,  nor  was 
I  surprised  that  his  Appearance  did  have  the  effect 
of  checking  for  an  instant  that  spirit  of  Mischief 
which  was  animating  the  throng.  Lady  Barbara 
and  the  young  Gentlemen  at  the  other  window  were 
even  more  astonished  than  I  at  this  wholly  unfore- 
seen occurrence.  They  could  not  understand  the 
sudden  checking  of  the  Rioters  and  the  comparative 
silence  which  fell  upon  the  forefront  of  their  ranks. 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  my  Lord  Stour 
exclaimed. 

"A  Man  between  the  chair  and  its  pursuers," 
Lord  Douglas  said  in  amazement. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  queried  Lady  Barbara. 

"Not  a  Gentleman,"  rejoined  Lord  Douglas; 
"  for  he  would  not  thus  stop  to  parley  with  so  foul 
a  mob.  Meseems  I  know  the  figure,"  he  added,  and 
leaned  still  further  out  of  the  window,  the  better 
to  take  in  the  whole  of  the  amazing  scene.  "  Yes — 
by  gad !  .  .  .  It  is  .  .  . " 

Here  Mistress  Euphrosine's  cry  of  horror  broke 
in  upon  us  all. 

"Alas!"  she  ejaculated  piously.  "  'Tis  that 
reprobate  Brother  of  mine !  " 

"  So  it  is!  "  added  Mr.  Baggs  drily.  "  'Tis  meet 
he  should  raise  his  voice  in  defence  of  that  baggage." 

"  But,  who  is  it  ?  "  insisted  my  Lord  Stour  im- 
patiently. 


80        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"Why,  Betterton  the  Actor/'  replied  Lord 
Douglas  with  a  laugh.  "  Do  you  not  know  him  ?  " 

"Only  from  seeing  him  on  the  stage,"  said  the 
other.  Then  he  added :  "  An  Actor  confronting  a 
mob !  By  gad !  the  fellow  hath  pluck !  " 

"  He  knows,"  protested  Mr.  Baggs  acidly,  "  that 
the  mob  will  not  hurt  him.  He  hath  so  oft  made 
them  laugh  that  they  look  upon  him  as  one  of  them- 
selves." 

"  Listen !  "  said  Lady  Barbara.  "  You  can  hear 
him  speak  quite  plainly." 

Whereupon  they  all  became  silent. 

All  this,  of  course,  had  occurred  in  far  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  describe.  Not  more  than  a  few 
seconds  had  gone  by  since  first  I  saw  Mr.  Betterton 
step  out  from  Nowhere  in  particular  into  the  Street. 
But  his  Interposition  had  given  my  Lady  Castle- 
maine's  Chairmen  and  also  the  Watchmen,  who  were 
guarding  her,  a  distinct  advance.  They  were  mak- 
ing the  most  of  the  respite  by  hurrying  up  our  street 
as  fast  as  they  were  able,  even  while  the  Crowd — 
that  portion  of  it  that  stood  nearest  to  Mr.  Betterton 
and  could  hear  his  Voice — broke  into  a  loud  laugh  at 
some  Sally  of  his  which  had  apparently  caught  their 
Fancy. 

From  the  distance  the  cry  was  raised :  "  To  the 
pillory,  the  Castlemaine !  " 

It  was  at  this  point  that  my  Lady  Barbara  bade 
every  one  to  listen,  so  that  we  all  could  hear  Mr. 
Betterton's  rich  and  powerful  Voice  quite  plainly. 

"Come,  come,  Friends!"  he  was  saying;  "the 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       81 

Lady  will  get  there  without  your  help  some  day, 
I'll  warrant.  Aye!  and  further  too,  an  the  Devil 
gives  her  her  due!  Now,  now,"  he  continued,  when 
cries  and  murmurs,  boos  and  hisses,  strove  to  inter- 
rupt him.  "  You  are  not  going  to  hiss  a  hard- 
working Actor  off  the  Stage  like  this.  Do,  in  the 
name  of  Sport,  which  every  sound-minded  English- 
man loves,  after  all,  await  a  fitter  opportunity  for 
molesting  a  defenceless  Woman.  What  say  You  to 
adjourning  to  the  Spread  Eagle  tavern,  where  mine 
Host  hath  just  opened  a  new  cask  of  the  most 
delicious  beer  You  have  ever  tasted?  There's  a 
large  room  at  the  back  of  the  bar — You  know  it. 
Well!  every  one  who  goes  there  now — and  there's 
room  for  three  or  four  hundred  of  You — can  drink 
a  pint  of  that  beer  at  my  expense.  What  say  You, 
Friends?  Is  it  not  better  than  to  give  chase  to  a 
pack  of  Watchmen  and  a  pair  of  liveried  Chairmen 
who  are  already  as  scared  as  rabbits?  See!  they 
are  fast  disappearing  up  the  street.  Come!  who 
will  take  a  pint  of  beer  at  the  invitation  of  Tom 
Betterton?  You  know  him!  Is  he  not  a  jolly, 
good  fellow?  ..." 

Of  course,  he  did  not  deliver  this  speech  unin- 
terruptedly. It  was  only  snatches  of  it  that  came  to 
our  ear.  But  we  Listeners  soon  caught  the  drift  of 
it,  and  watched  its  reception  by  the  Crowd.  Well! 
the  Fire-eaters  gradually  cooled  down.  The  pros- 
pect of  the  ale  at  the  Spread  Eagle  caused  many  a 
smack  of  the  lips,  which  in  its  turn  smothered  the 
cries  of  Rage  and  Vituperation.  Anon,  One  could 


82       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

perceive  one  forearm  after  another  drawn  with 
anticipatory  Pleasure  across  lips  that  had  ceased  to 
boo. 

Just  then,  too,  Heaven  interposed  in  a  conciliatory 
spirit  in  the  form  of  a  few  drops  of  heavy  Rain, 
presaging  a  Storm.  The  next  moment  the  stampede 
in  the  direction  of  the  Spread  Eagle  tavern  had 
begun,  whilst  my  Lady  Castlemaine's  Chairmen 
trudged  unmolested  past  our  door. 

My  Lord  Stour  gave  a  loud  laugh. 

"  'Twas  well  thought  on,"  he  exclaimed.  "  The 
Mountebank  hath  found  a  way  to  stop  the  Rabble's 
howls,  whilst  my  Lady  Baggage  finds  safety  in 
flight." 

But  Lady  Barbara  added  thoughtfully :  "  Me- 
thinks  'twas  plucky  to  try  and  defend  a  Woman 
single-handed." 

4 

I  watched  the  turbulent  throng,  filing  now  in 
orderly  procession  through  the  hospitably  open 
doors  of  the  Spread  Eagle  tavern.  Mr.  Betterton 
remained  for  awhile  standing  at  the  door,  marshal- 
ling the  more  obstreperous  of  his  invited  Guests  and 
parleying  with  Mr.  Barraclough,  the  Host  of  the 
Spread  Eagle — no  doubt  making  arrangements  for 
the  quenching  of  three  or  four  hundred  thirsts  at  his 
expense.  Then  he  suddenly  turned  on  his  heel  and 
came  up  the  Street.  Lord  Douglas  gave  one  of  his 
rough,  grating  laughs,  and  said : 

"  So  now  I  see  that,  like  a  wise  man,  Mr.  Better- 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       83 

ton  mistrusts  his  Popularity  and  proposes  to  seek 
refuge  from  his  ebullient  Friends." 

"  I  believe/'  said  Mistress  Euphrosine  to  her  Lord 
in  an  awed  whisper ;  "  I  believe  that  Thomas  is 
coming  here." 

Which  possibility  greatly  disconcerted  Mr.  Baggs. 
He  became  quite  agitated,  and  exclaimed  fussily: 

"  I'll  not  have  him  here  .  .  .  I'll  not  .  .  .: 
Not  while  her  Ladyship  is  here  .  .  .  I'll  not 
allow  it!" 

"And  pray  why  not,  Mr.  Notary?"  Lady  Bar- 
bara put  in  haughtily.  "  Mr.  Betterton  sups  twice 
a  week  with  His  Majesty.  Surely  then  you  may 
invite  him  without  shame  under  your  roof !  " 

"  And  I've  never  seen  the  great  Actor  close  to," 
remarked  Lord  Stour  lightly.  "  I've  oft  marvelled 
what  he  was  like  in  private  life." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Lord  Douglas,  with  a  distinct  note 
of  acerbity  in  his  voice,  "  he  is  just  like  any  other 
Fellow  of  his  degree.  These  Mountebanks  have  of 
late  thought  themselves  Somebodies,  just  because  'tis 
the  fashion  for  Gentlemen  to  write  plays  and  to  go 
to  the  Theatre.  My  Lord  Rochester,  Sir  George 
Etherege  and  the  others  have  so  spoilt  them  by  going 
about  constantly  with  them,  that  the  Fellows  scarce 
know  their  place  now.  This  man  Betterton  is  the 
worst  of  the  lot.  He  makes  love  to  the  Ladies  of  the 
Court,  forgets  that  he  is  naught  but  a  Rogue  and  a 
Vagabond  and  not  worthy  to  be  seen  in  the  company 
of  Gentlemen.  Oh !  I've  oft  had  an  itching  to  lay  a 
stick  across  the  shoulders  of  some  of  these  louts! " 


84        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

I  would  that  I  could  convey  to  you,  dear  Mis- 
tress, the  tone  of  Spite  wherewith  Lord  Douglas 
spoke  at  this  moment,  or  the  look  of  Contempt 
which  for  the  moment  quite  disfigured  his  good- 
looking  Face.  That  he  had  been  made  aware  at 
some  time  of  Mr.  Betterton's  admiration  for  Lady 
Barbara  became  at  once  apparent  to  me,  also  that 
he  looked  upon  that  admiration  as  a  Presumption 
and  an  Insult. 

I  was  confirmed  in  this  Supposition  by  the  look 
which  he  gave  then  and  there  to  his  Sister,  a  look 
which  caused  her  to  blush  to  the  very  roots  of  her 
hair.  I  fancy,  too,  that  he  also  whispered  some- 
thing on  that  Subject  to  my  Lord  Stour,  for  a  dark 
frown  of  Anger  suddenly  appeared  upon  the  latter's 
Face  and  he  muttered  an  angry  and  rough  Ejacu- 
lation. 

As  for  me,  I  am  an  humble  Clerk,  a  peaceful  Citi- 
zen and  a  practising  Christian;  but  just  at  that 
moment  I  felt  that  I  hated  Lord  Douglas  Wych- 
woode  and  his  Friend  with  a  bitter  and  undying 
hatred. 


Meseemed  as  if  the  air  within  the  room  had  be- 
come surcharged  with  a  subtle  and  heady  fluid  akin 
to  an  Intoxicant,  so  many  Passions  were  even  then 
warring  in  the  innermost  hearts  of  us  all.  There 
was  Hatred  and  Spite,  and  Fervour  and  Love.  We 
were  all  of  us  alive  at  that  moment,  if  You  know 
what  I  mean.  We  were  Individuals  who  felt  and 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       85 

thought  individually  and  strongly;  not  just  the  mere 
sheeplike  Creatures  swayed  hither  and  thither  by  the 
Modes  and  Exigencies  of  the  hour.  And  I  can 
assure  you  that  even  then,  when  we  heard  Mr. 
Betterton's  quick  step  ascending  the  stairs,  we  all 
held  our  breath  and  watched  the  door  as  if  some- 
thing Supernatural  was  about  to  be  revealed  to  us. 

The  next  moment  that  door  was  thrown  open  and 
Mr.  Betterton  appeared  upon  the  threshold. 

Ah!  if  only  You  had  seen  him  then,  Mistress, 
your  heart  would  have  rejoiced,  just  as  mine  did,  at 
the  sight.  Personally,  I  could  never  tell  You  if 
Mr.  Betterton  is  tall  or  short,  handsome  or  ill- 
favoured;  all  that  I  know  is  that  when  he  is  in  a 
room  you  cannot  look  at  any  one  else;  he  seems  to 
dwarf  every  other  Man  by  the  Picturesqueness  of 
his  Personality. 

And  now — oh !  You  should  have  seen  him  as  he 
stood  there,  framed  in  the  doorway,  the  grey  after- 
noon light  of  this  dull  September  day  falling  full 
upon  his  Face,  with  those  glittering  Eyes  of  his  and 
the  kindly,  firm  Mouth,  round  which  there  slowly 
began  to  spread  a  gently  mocking  Smile.  He  was 
richly  dressed,  as  was  his  wont,  with  priceless  lace 
frills  at  throat  and  wrists,  and  his  huge  Periwig 
set  off  to  perfection  the  nobility  of  his  brow. 

With  one  swift  gaze  round  the  room,  he  had  taken 
in  the  full  Situation.  You  know  yourself,  dear  Mis- 
tress, what  marvellous  Powers  of  Intuition  he  has. 
His  glance  swept  over  Lady  Barbara's  exquisite 
comeliness,  her  somewhat  flurried  mien  and  wide, 


86       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

inquisitive  eyes ;  over  Lord  Douglas,  sullen  and  con- 
temptuous; my  Lord  Stour,  wrathful  and  sus- 
picious ;  Mistress  Euphrosine  and  Mr.  Baggs,  servile 
and  tremulous.  I  doubt  not  that  his  keen  Eyes  had 
also  spied  me  watching  his  every  Movement  from 
behind  the  screen. 

The  mocking  Smile  broadened  upon  his  Face. 
With  one  shapely  leg  extended  forward,  his  right 
arm  holding  his  hat,  his  arm  executing  a  superb 
flourish,  he  swept  to  the  assembled  Company  an 
elaborate  Bow. 

"  My  Lords,  your  servant,"  he  said.  Then  bowed 
more  gravely  to  Lady  Barbara  and  added,  with  a 
tone  of  subtle  and  flattering  deference :  "  I  am,  as 
always,  your  Ladyship's  most  humble  and  most  de- 
voted Slave." 

Whereupon  her  Ladyship  swept  him  one  of  those 
graceful  Curtsies  which  I  understand  have  become 
the  Mode  in  fashionable  Society  of  late.  But  the 
young  Gentlemen  seemed  to  have  lost  count  of  their 
Manners.  They  were  either  too  wrathful  or  too 
much  taken  aback  to  speak.  Mistress  Euphrosine, 
with  her  nose  in  the  air,  was  preparing  to  sail  ma- 
jestically out  of  the  room. 

Mr.  Betterton  then  stepped  in.  He  threw  down 
his  hat  and  playfully  made  pretence  to  intercept 
Mistress  Euphrosine. 

"  Sister,  I  do  entreat  You,"  he  said  with  mock 
concern,  "  do  not  carry  your  well-shaped  nose  so 
high.  The  scent  of  Heaven  will  not  reach  your 
nostrils,  try  how  you  may.  >  >  .  'Tis  more  likely 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       87 

that  you  will  smell  the  brimstone  which  clings  to 
my  perruque." 

And  before  Mistress  Euphrosine  had  time  to  think 
of  a  retort,  he  had  turned  to  her  Ladyship  with  that 
gentle  air  of  deference  which  became  him  so  well. 

"How  comes  it,"  he  asked,  "that  I  have  the 
privilege  of  meeting  your  Ladyship  here?" 

"  A  mere  accident,  Sir,"  my  Lord  Stour  inter- 
posed, somewhat  high-handedly  I  thought.  "  Her 
Ladyship,  fearing  to  be  molested  by  the  Crowd, 
came  to  meet  Lord  Douglas  here." 

"  I  understand,"  murmured  Mr.  Betterton.  And 
I  who  knew  him  so  well,  realized  that  just  for  the 
moment  he  understood  nothing  save  that  he  was  in 
the  presence  of  this  exquisitely  beautiful  Woman 
who  had  enchained  his  Fancy.  He  stood  like  one 
transfixed,  his  eyes  fastened  almost  in  wonderment 
upon  the  graceful  Apparition  before  him.  I  should 
not  be  exaggerating,  fair  Mistress,  if  I  said  that  he 
seemed  literally  to  be  drinking  in  every  line  of  her 
dainty  Figure;  the  straight,  white  throat,  the 
damask  cheek  and  soft,  fair  hair,  slightly  disar- 
ranged. He  had  of  a  truth  lost  consciousness  of  his 
surroundings,  and  this  to  such  an  extent  that  it  ap- 
parently set  my  Lord  Stour's  nerves  on  edge;  for 
anon  he  said  with  evident  Irritation  and  a  total 
Disregard  both  of  polite  Usage  and  of  Truth,  since 
of  course  he  knew  quite  well  to  whom  he  was 
speaking : 

"  I  did  not  catch  your  name,  Sir ;  though  you 
seem  acquainted  with  her  Ladyship." 


88        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

He  had  to  repeat  the  Query  twice,  and  with 
haughty  impatience,  before  Mr.  Betterton  descended 
from  the  Clouds  in  order  to  reply. 

"  My  name  is  Betterton,  Sir/'  he  said,  no  less 
curtly  than  my  lord. 

"Betterton?  Ah,  yes!"  his  Lordship  went  on, 
with  what  I  thought  was  studied  Insolence,  seeing 
that  he  was  addressing  one  of  the  most  famous 
Men  in  England.  "  I  have  heard  the  Name  before 
.  .  .  but  where,  I  cannot  remember.  .  .  .  Let 
me  see,  you  are  .  .  .  ?  " 

"  An  Actor,  Sir,"  Mr.  Betterton  gave  haughty 
answer.  "  Therefore  an  Artist,  even  though  an 
humble  one;  but  still  a  World  contained  in  one 
Man." 

Then  his  manner  changed,  the  stiffness  and  pride 
went  out  of  it  and  he  added  in  his  more  habitual 
mode  of  good-natured  banter,  whilst  pointing  in  the 
direction  of  Mistress  Euphrosine : 

"  That,  however,  is  not,  I  imagine,  the  opinion 
which  my  worthy  Sister — a  pious  Lady,  Sir — hath 
of  my  talents.  She  only  concedes  me  a  Soul  when 
she  gloats  over  the  idea  that  it  shall  be  damned." 

"  You  are  insolent !  "  quoth  Mistress  Euphrosine, 
as  she  stalked  majestically  to  the  door.  "  And  I'll 
not  stay  longer  to  hear  you  blaspheme." 

Even  so,  her  Brother's  lightly  mocking  ripple  of 
Laughter  pursued  her  along  the  course  of  her  digni- 
fied exit  through  the  door. 

"  Nay,  dear  Sister,"  he  said.  "  Why  not  stay 
and  tell  these  noble  Gentlemen  your  doubts  as  to 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       89 

which  half  of  me  in  the  hereafter  will  be  stoking  the 
Fires  of  Hell  and  which  half  be  wriggling  in  the 
Flames  ?  "  Then  he  added,  turning  gaily  once  more 
to  the  Visitors  as  Mistress  Euphrosine  finally  de- 
parted and  banged  the  door  to  behind  her :  "  Mis- 
tress Baggs,  Sir,  is  much  troubled  that  she  cannot 
quite  make  up  her  mind  how  much  of  me  is  Devil 
and  how  much  a  lost  Soul." 

"  Of  a  surety,  Sir,"  retorted  Lord  Douglas,  with 
the  same  tone  of  malicious  Spite  wherewith  he  had 
originally  spoken  of  Mr.  Betterton,  "  every  Gentle- 
man is  bound  to  share  your  worthy  Sister's  doubts 
on  that  point  .  .  .  and  as  to  whether  your  right 
Hand  or  your  sharp  Tongue  will  fizzle  first  down 
below." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  in  the  room — oh! 
the  mere  fraction  of  a  second — whilst  I,  who  knew 
every  line  of  Mr.  Betterton's  face,  saw  the  quick 
flash  of  Anger  which  darted  from  his  eyes  at  the 
insolent  speech.  Lady  Barbara  too  had  made  an 
instinctive  movement,  whether  towards  him  in  pro- 
tection or  towards  her  Brother  in  reproach,  I  could 
not  say.  Certain  it  is  that  that  Movement  chased 
away  in  one  instant  Mr.  Betterton's  flaming  wrath. 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  retorted  with  quiet 
Mockery : 

'  Your  Lordship,  I  feel  sure,  will  be  able  to  have 
those  doubts  set  at  rest  presently.  I  understand  that 
vast  intelligence  will  be  granted  to  Gentlemen  down 
there." 

At  once  my  Lord's  hand  went  to  his  sword. 


90        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  Insolent ! — "  he  muttered ;  and  my  Lord  Stour 
immediately  stepped  to  his  Friend's  side. 

Like  the  Fleet  Street  crowd  awhile  ago,  these  two 
Gentlemen  meant  mischief.  For  some  reason  which 
was  not  far  to  seek,  they  were  on  the  verge  of  a 
Quarrel  with  Mr.  Betterton — nay!  I  believe  that 
they  meant  to  provoke  him  into  one.  In  wordy 
Warfare,  however,  they  did  not  stand  much  chance 
against  the  great  Actor's  caustic  Wit,  and  no  doubt 
their  sense  of  Impotence  made  them  all  the  more 
wrathful  and  quarrelsome. 

Mr.  Baggs,  of  course,  servile  and  obsequious  as 
was  his  wont,  was  ready  enough  to  interpose.  A 
Quarrel  inside  his  house,  between  valued  Clients  and 
his  detested  Brother-in-law,  was  not  at  all  to  his 
liking. 

"My  Lords  .  .  ."  he  mumbled  half -incoher- 
ently, "  I  implore  you  ...  do  not  heed  him  .  .  . 
he.  .  ." 

His  futile  attempts  at  Conciliation  tickled  Mr. 
Betterton's  sense  of  humour.  The  last  vestige  of 
his  Anger  vanished  in  a  mocking  Smile. 

"  Nay,  good  Master  Theophilus,"  he  said  coolly, 
"  prithee  do  not  interfere  between  me  and  the  Wrath 
of  these  two  Gentlemen.  Attend  to  thine  own 
Affairs  .  .  .  and  to  thine  own  Conspiracies,"  he 
added — spoke  suddenly  under  Mr.  Baggs'  very  nose, 
so  that  the  latter  gave  a  jump  and  involuntarily 
gasped : 

"  Conspiracies  ?  .  .  .  What — what  the  devil  do 
you  mean,  Sir,  by  Conspiracies  ?  " 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY        91 

"  Oh,  nothing — nothing — my  good  Friend,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Betterton  lightly.  "  But  when  I  see  two 
hot-headed  young  Cavaliers  in  close  conversation 
with  a  seedy  Lawyer,  I  know  that  somewhere  in  the 
pocket  of  one  of  them  there  is  a  bit  of  Handwriting 
that  may  send  the  lot  of  them  to  the  Tower  first 
and  to — well ! — to  Heaven  afterwards." 

My  Heart  was  in  my  Mouth  all  the  time  that  he 
spoke.  Of  course  he  could  not  know  how  near  the 
Truth  he  was,  and  I  firmly  believe  that  his  banter 
was  a  mere  Arrow  shot  into  the  air;  but  even  so  it 
grazed  these  noble  Lords'  equanimity.  Lord 
Douglas  had  become  very  pale,  and  my  Lord  Stour 
looked  troubled,  or  was  it  my  fancy?  But  I  am 
sure  that  her  Ladyship's  blue  eyes  rested  on  Mr. 
Betterton  with  a  curious  searching  gaze.  She  too 
wondered  how  much  Knowledge  of  the  Truth  lay 
behind  his  easy  Sarcasm. 

Then  Lord  Douglas  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"  There,  for  once,  Sir  Actor,"  he  said  lightly, 
"  your  perspicacity  is  at  fault.  My  Lord  the  Earl 
of  Stour  and  I  came  to  consult  your  Brother-in-law 
on  a  matter  of  business." 

"  And,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Betterton  with  mock  con- 
cern, "  I  am  detaining  you  with  my  foolish  talk.  I 
pray  you,  Gentlemen,  take  no  further  heed  of  me. 
Time  treads  hard  on  your  aristocratic  Heels,  whilst 
it  is  the  Slave  of  a  poor,  shiftless  Actor  like  myself." 

*  Yes,  yes,"  once  more  interposed  the  mealy- 
mouthed  Mr.  Baggs.  "  I  pray  you,  my  Lords — 
your  Ladyship — to  come  to  my  inner  office " 


92        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

There  was  a  general  movement  amongst  the 
Company,  during  which  I  distinctly  heard  Lord 
Douglas  Wychwoode  whisper  to  my  Lord  Stour : 

"  Can  you  wonder  that  I  always  long  to  lay  a 
stick  across  that  Man's  shoulders?  His  every  word 
sounds  like  insolence  .  .  .  And  he  has  dared  to 
make  love  to  Barbara.  ..." 

Her  Ladyship,  however,  seemed  loth  to  linger. 
The  hour,  of  a  truth,  was  getting  late. 

"  Father  will  be  anxious,"  she  said.  "  I  have 
stayed  out  over  long." 

"  Are  the  streets  safe,  I  wonder?  "  my  Lord  Stour 
remarked. 

"  Perfectly,"  broke  in  Mr.  Betterton.  "  And  if 
her  Ladyship  will  allow  me,  I  will  conduct  her  to 
her  Chair." 

Again  my  Lord  Stour  flashed  out  angrily,  and 
once  more  the  brooding  Quarrel  threatened  to  burst 
the  bounds  of  conventional  Intercourse.  This  time 
the  Lady  Barbara  herself  interposed. 

"  I  pray  you,  my  good  Lord,"  she  said,  "  do  not 
interfere.  Mr.  Betterton  and  I  are  old  Friends.  By 
your  leave,  he  shall  conduct  me  to  my  chair.  Do  we 
not  owe  it  to  him,"  she  added  gaily,  "  that  the 
streets  are  quiet  enough  to  enable  us  all  to  get  home 
in  peace  ?  " 

Then  she  turned  to  Mr.  Betterton  and  said 
gently : 

"  If  You  would  be  so  kind,  Sir — my  men  are 
close  by — I  should  be  grateful  if  You  will  tell  them 
to  bring  my  chair  along." 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       93 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  and  he  bowed  low 
and  kissed  the  tips  of  her  fingers.     Then  he  went. 


Lord  Douglas'  spiteful  glance  followed  the  dis- 
tinguished Actor's  retreating  figure  until  the  door 
had  closed  upon  him.  Then  he  said  drily : 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Babs.  He  may  as  well 
fetch  your  chair.  It  is  raining  hard  and  one 
Lacquey  is  as  good  as  another." 

He  turned  to  Mr.  Baggs,  who,  standing  first  on 
one  leg  then  on  the  other,  presented  a  truly  pitiable 
spectacle  of  Servility  and  Unmanliness.  I  think  he 
had  just  come  to  realize  that  I  had  been  in  the  room 
behind  the  screen  all  this  while,  and  that  my  Pres- 
ence would  be  unwelcome  to  their  Lordships  if  they 
knew  that  I  had  overheard  all  their  Conversation. 
Certain  it  is  that  I  saw  him  give  a  quick  glance  in 
my  direction,  and  then  he  became  even  more  fussy 
and  snivelling  than  before. 

"  In  my  inner  Office,"  he  murmured.  "  I  pray 
you  to  honour  me,  my  Lords.  ...  A  glass  of 
wine,  perhaps  .  .  .  until  the  copies  are  finished. 
I  should  be  so  proud  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  and  .  .  . 
we  should  be  quite  undisturbed  .  .  .  whereas 
here  ...  I  only  regret  ..." 

I  despised  him  for  all  that  grovelling,  and  so  did 
the  Gentlemen,  I  make  no  doubt.  Nevertheless,  they 
were  ready  to  follow  him. 

"  We  must  wait  somewhere,"  Lord  Douglas  said 
curtly.  "  And  I  should  be  glad  of  a  glass  of  wine." 


94        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Lady  Barbara  was  standing  in  the  window-recess, 
waiting  for  her  chair.  She  insisted  on  my  Lord 
Stour  going  with  her  Brother  into  the  inner  room. 
Undoubtedly,  she  did  not  wish  either  of  them  to 
meet  Mr.  Betterton  again. 

"  I  promise  you,"  she  said  with  quiet  Determina- 
tion, "  that  I'll  not  stop  to  speak  with  him.  I'll 
watch  through  the  window  until  my  Men  bring  the 
chair ;  then  I  will  go  down  at  once." 

"  But "  protested  his  Lordship. 

"  I  entreat  you  to  go,  my  Lord,"  she  reiterated 
tartly.  "  And  you  too,  Douglas.  My  temper  is  on 
edge,  and  if  I  am  not  left  to  myself  for  a  few 
moments  I  shall  have  an  attack  of  Nerves." 

She  certainly  spoke  with  unwonted  Sharpness. 
Thus  commanded,  it  would  have  been  churlish  to 
disobey.  The  young  Gentlemen,  after  a  second  or 
two  longer  of  Hesitation,  finally  followed  Mr.  Baggs 
out  of  the  room. 

Now,  I  could  not  see  the  Lady  Barbara,  for  she 
was  ensconced  in  a  window-recess,  just  as  I  was; 
but  I  heard  her  give  a  loud  Sigh  of  Impatience. 
There  was  no  doubt  that  her  Nerves  had  been  jarred. 
Small  wonder,  seeing  all  that  she  had  gone  through 
— the  noise  and  rioting  in  the  streets,  her  Terror  and 
her  Flight;  her  unexpected  meeting  with  her  Lover; 
then  the  advent  of  Mr.  Betterton  and  that  brooding 
Quarrel  between  him  and  the  two  Gentlemen,  which 
threatened  to  break  through  at  any  moment. 

The  next  minute  I  saw  her  Ladyship's  chair 
brought  to  a  halt  down  below,  and  she  crossed  the 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       95 

Line  of  my  Vision  between  the  window  and  the 
sofa,  where  she  had  left  her  cloak.  She  picked  it 
up  and  was  about  to  wrap  it  round  her  shoulders, 
when  the  door  was  flung  open  and  Mr.  Betterton 
came  in.  He  gave  a  quick  glance  round  the  room 
and  saw  that  the  Lady  Barbara  was  alone — or  so  he 
thought,  for,  of  course,  he  did  not  see  me.  He 
carefully  closed  the  door  behind  him  and  came 
quickly  forward,  ostensibly  to  help  her  Ladyship  on 
with  her  cloak. 

"  It  is  kind  of  you,  Sir,  thus  to  wait  on  me,"  she 
said  coldly.  "  May  I  claim  your  Arm  to  conduct 
me  to  my  chair  ?  " 

She  was  standing  close  in  front  of  him  just  then, 
with  her  back  to  him  and  her  hands  raised  up  to  her 
shoulders  in  order  to  receive  her  cloak,  which  he  had 
somewhat  roughly  snatched  out  of  her  grasp. 

"  My  Arm  ?  "  he  riposted,  with  a  vibrating  note 
of  passion  in  his  mellow  voice.  "  My  Life,  my- 
self, are  all  at  your  Ladyship's  service.  But  will 
not  you  wait  one  little  moment  and  say  one  kind 
word  to  the  poor  Actor  whose  Art  is  the  delight  of 
Kings,  and  whose  Person  is  the  butt  of  every  Cox- 
comb who  calls  himself  a  Gentleman?  " 

He  flung  the  cloak  upon  a  chair  and  tried  to  take 
her  hand,  which,  however,  she  quickly  withdrew, 
and  then  turned,  not  unkindly,  to  face  him. 

"  My  Brother  is  hasty,  Sir,"  she  said  more  gently. 
"  He  has  many  prejudices  which,  no  doubt,  time  and 
experience  of  life  will  mend.  As  for  me,"  she 
added  lightly,  "  I  am  quite  ready  to  extend  the 


96        HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

hand  of  Friendship,  not  only  to  the  Artist  but  to 
the  Man." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  Then,  as  he  did 
not  take  it,  but  stood  there  looking  at  her  with 
that  hungry,  passionate  look  which  revealed  the 
depth  of  his  Admiration  for  her,  she  continued  with 
a  bantering  tone  of  reproach : 

"  You  will  not  take  my  hand,  Sir?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied  curtly. 

"  But  I  am  offering  You  my  Friendship,"  she 
went  on,  with  a  quick,  nervy  little  laugh;  for  she 
was  Woman  enough,  believe  me,  to  understand  his 
look. 

"Friendship  between  Man  and  Woman  is  im- 
possible," he  said  in  a  strange,  hoarse  voice,  which 
I  scarce  recognized  as  his. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  retorted,  with  a 
sudden  stiffening  of  her  Figure  and  a  haughty 
Glance  which  he,  of  a  truth,  should  have  known 
boded  no  good  for  his  suit. 

"  I  mean,"  he  replied,  "  that  between  a  Man  and 
a  Woman,  who  are  both  young  and  both  endowed 
with  Heart  and  Soul  and  Temperament,  there  may 
be  Enmity  or  Love,  Hatred  or  Passion ;  but  Friend- 
ship, never." 

"  You  talk  vaguely,  Sir,"  she  rejoined  coldly.  "  I 
pray  You,  give  me  my  cloak." 

"  Not,"  he  retorted,  "  before  I  have  caused  your 
Ladyship  to  cast  one  short  Glance  back  over  the 
past  few  months." 

"  With  what  purpose,  I  pray  You  ?  " 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       97 

"  So  that  You  might  recognize,  as  You  gaze 
along  their  vista,  the  man  who  since  he  first  beheld 
you  hath  madly  worshipped  You." 

She  stood  before  him,  still  facing  him,  tall  and  of 
a  truth  divinely  fair.  Nay !  this  no  one  could  gain- 
say. For  the  moment  I  found  it  in  my  Heart  to 
sympathize  with  his  Infatuation.  You,  dear  Mis- 
tress, were  not  there  to  show  him  how  much  lovelier 
still  a  Woman  could  be,  and  the  Lady  Barbara  had 
all  the  subtle  flavour,  too,  of  forbidden  fruit.  Mr. 
Betterton  sank  on  one  knee  before  her;  his  mellow 
Voice  sounded  exquisitely  tender  and  caressing. 
Oh !  had  I  been  a  Woman,  how  gladly  would  I  have 
listened  to  his  words.  There  never  was  such  a 
Voice  as  that  of  Mr.  Betterton.  No  wonder  that 
he  can  sway  the  hearts  of  thousands  by  its  Magic; 
no  wonder  that  thousands  remain  entranced  while 
he  speaks.  Now,  I  assure  You,  Mistress,  that  tears 
gathered  in  my  eyes,  there  was  such  true  Passion, 
such  depth  of  feeling  in  his  tone.  But  Lady  Bar- 
bara's heart  was  not  touched.  In  truth,  she  loved 
another  Man,  and  her  whole  outlook  on  Life  and 
Men  was  distorted  by  the  Environment  amidst 
which  she  had  been  brought  up. 

The  exquisite,  insinuating  Voice  with  its  note  of 
tender  Appeal  only  aroused  her  contempt.  She 
jumped  to  her  feet  with  an  angry  exclamation. 
What  she  said,  I  do  not  quite  remember ;  but  it  was 
a  Remark  which  must  have  stung  him  to  the  quick, 
for  I  can  assure  You,  dear  Mistress,  that  Mr.  Better- 
ton's  pride  is  at  least  equal  to  that  of  the  greatest 


98       HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Nobleman  in  the  land.    But  all  that  he  did  say  was : 

"  Nay,  Madam ;  an  Artist's  love  is  not  an  insult, 
even  to  a  Queen." 

"  Possibly,  Sir,"  she  riposted  coldly.  "  But  I  at 
least  cannot  listen  to  You.  So  I  pray  You  let  me 
rejoin  my  Servants." 

"  And  I  pray  You,"  he  pleaded,  without  rising, 
"  humbly  on  my  knees,  to  hear  me  just  this  once !  " 

She  protested,  and  would  have  left  him  there, 
kneeling,  while  she  ran  out  of  the  room ;  but  he  had 
succeeded  in  getting  hold  of  her  Hand  and  was 
clinging  to  it  with  both  his  own,  whilst  from  his 
lips  there  came  a  torrent  of  passionate  pleading  such 
as  I  could  not  have  thought  any  Woman  capable 
of  resisting  for  long. 

"  I  am  not  a  young  Dandy,"  he  urged ;  "  nor  yet 
a  lank-haired,  crazy  Poet  who  grows  hysterical  over 
a  Woman's  eyebrow.  I  am  a  Man,  and  an  Artist, 
rich  with  an  inheritance  such  as  even  your  An- 
cestors would  have  envied  me.  Mine  inheritance  is 
the  Mind  and  Memory  of  cultured  England  and  a 
Name  which  by  mine  Art  I  have  rendered  im- 
mortal." 

"  I  honour  your  Genius,  Sir,"  she  rejoined 
coolly;  "and  because  of  it,  I  try  to  excuse  your 
folly." 

"  Nay!  "  he  continued  with  passionate  insistence. 
"  There  are  Passions  so  sweet  that  they  excuse  all 
the  Follies  they  provoke.  Oh !  I  pray  You  listen 
..  .  .  I  have  waited  in  silence  for  months,  not  dar- 
ing to  approach  You.  You  seemed  immeasurably 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY       99 

above  me,  as  distant  as  the  Stars;  but  whilst  I, 
poor  and  lowly-born,  waited  and  worshipped 
silently,  success  forged  for  me  a  Name,  so  covered 
with  Glory  that  I  dare  at  last  place  it  at  your  feet." 

"  I  ara  touched,  Sir,  and  honoured,  I  assure  You," 
she  said  somewhat  impatiently.  "  But  all  this  is 
naught  but  folly,  and  reason  should  teach  you  that 
the  Daughter  of  the  Marquis  of  Sidbury  can  be 
nothing  to  You." 

But  by  this  time  it  was  evident  that  the  great 
and  distinguished  Actor  had  allowed  his  Folly  to 
conquer  his  Reason.  I  closed  my  eyes,  for  I  could 
not  bear  to  see  a  Man  whom  I  so  greatly  respected 
kneeling  in  such  abject  humiliation  before  a  Woman 
who  had  nothing  for  him  but  disdain.  Ah !  Women 
can  be  very  cruel  when  they  do  not  love.  In  truth, 
Lady  Barbara,  with  all  her  Rank  and  Wealth,  could 
not  really  have  felt  contempt  for  a  Man  whom  the 
King  himself  and  the  highest  in  the  land  delighted 
to  honour ;  yet  I  assure  You,  Mistress,  that  some  of 
the  things  she  said  made  me  blush  for  the  sake  of 
the  high-minded  Man  who  honours  me  with  his 
Friendship. 

"  Short  of  reason,  Sir,"  she  said,  with  unmeasured 
hauteur  at  one  time,  "  I  pray  you  recall  your  far- 
famed  sense  of  humour.  Let  it  show  you  Thomas 
Betterton,  the  son  of  a  Scullion,  asking  the  hand  of 
the  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode  in  marriage." 

This  was  meant  for  a  Slap  in  the  Face,  and  was 
naught  but  a  studied  insult ;  for  we  all  know  that  the 
story  of  Mr.  Betterton's  Father  having  been  a 


100      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

menial  is  utterly  without  foundation.  But  I  assure 
You  that  by  this  time  he  was  blind  and  deaf  to  all 
save  to  the  insistent  call  of  his  own  overwhelming 
passion.  He  did  not  resent  the  insult,  as  I  thought 
he  would  do;  but  merely  rejoined  fervently: 

"  I  strive  to  conjure  the  picture;  but  only  see  Tom 
Betterton,  the  world-famed  Artist,  wooing  the 
Woman  he  loves." 

But  what  need  is  there  for  me  to  recapitulate  here 
all  the  fond  and  foolish  things  which  were  spoken 
by  a  truly  great  Man  to  a  chit  of  a  Girl,  who  was 
too  self-centred  and  egotistical  to  appreciate  the 
great  Honour  which  he  was  conferring  on  her  by  his 
Wooing.  I  was  holding  my  breath,  fearful  lest  I 
should  be  seen.  To  both  of  these  proud  People  be- 
fore me,  my  known  Presence  would  have  been  an 
added  humiliation.  Already  Lady  Barbara,  impa- 
tient of  Mr.  Betterton's  importunity,  was  raising  her 
Voice  and  curtly  bidding  him  to  leave  her  in  peace. 
I  thought  every  moment  that  she  would  call  out  to 
her  Brother,  when  Heaven  alone  would  know  what 
would  happen  next. 

"Your  importunity  becomes  an  insult,  Sir,"  she 
said  at  last  "  I  command  You  to  release  my  hand." 

She  tried  to  wrench  it  from  his  Grasp,  but  I 
imagine  that  his  hold  on  her  wrist  was  so  strong 
that  she  could  not  free  herself.  She  looked  around 
her  now  with  a  look  of  Helplessness,  which  would 
have  gone  to  my  Heart  if  I  had  any  feeling  of 
sympathy  left  after  I  had  poured  out  its  full  measure 
for  my  stricken  Friend.  He  was  not  himself  then, 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY     101 

I  assure  You,  Mistress.  I  know  that  the  evil  tongue 
of  those  who  hate  and  envy  him  have  poured  in- 
sidious poison  in  your  ears,  that  they  told  you  that 
Mr.  Betterton  had  insulted  the  Lady  Barbara  past 
forgiveness  and  had  behaved  towards  her  like  a  Cad 
and  a  Bully.  But  this  I  swear  to  be  untrue.  I  was 
there  all  the  time,  and  I  saw  it  all.  He  was  on  his 
knees,  and  never  attempted  to  touch  her  beyond 
clinging  to  her  Hand  and  covering  it  with  kisses. 
He  was  an  humbled  and  a  stricken  Man,  who  saw 
his  Love  rejected,  his  Passion  flouted,  his  Suffering 
mocked. 

I  tell  you  that  all  he  did  was  to  cling  to  her 
hand. 


Then,  all  at  once,  I  suppose  something  frightened 
her,  and  she  called  loudly : 

"Douglas!    Douglas!" 

I  don't  think  that  she  meant  to  call,  and  I  am 
sure  that  the  very  next  moment  she  had  already 
regretted  what  she  had  done. 

Mr.  Betterton  jumped  to  his  feet,  sobered  in  the 
instant;  and  she  stood  alone  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  gazing  somewhat  wild-eyed  in  the  direction 
of  the  door,  which  had  already  been  violently  flung 
open  and  through  which  my  Lord  Stour  and  Lord 
Douglas  now  hurriedly  stepped  forward. 

"  What  is  it,  Babs  ? "  Lord  Douglas  queried 
roughly.  "Why  are  You  still  here?  .  .  .  And 
what  '.  .?" 


102      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

He  got  no  further.  His  glance  had  alighted  on 
Mr.  Betterton,  and  I  never  saw  quite  so  much  con- 
centrated Fury  and  Hatred  in  any  one's  eyes  as 
now  appeared  in  those  of  Lord  Douglas  Wych- 
woode. 

But  already  the  Lady  Barbara  had  recovered  her- 
self. No  doubt  she  realized  the  Mischief  which 
her  involuntary  call  had  occasioned.  The  Quarrel 
which  had  been  slowly  smouldering  the  whole  After- 
noon was  ready  to  burst  into  living  flame  at  this 
moment.  Even  so,  she  tried  to  stem  its  outburst, 
protesting  that  she  had  been  misunderstood.  She 
even  tried  to  laugh;  but  the  laugh  sounded  pitiably 
forced. 

"  But  it's  nothing,  Douglas,  dear,"  she  said.  "  I 
protest.  Did  I  really  call?  I  do  not  remember. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Betterton  was  good  enough 
to  recite  some  verses  for  my  delectation  .  .  .  My 
Enthusiasm  must  have  run  away  with  me  . 
and,  unwittingly,  I  must  have  called  out  ..." 

Obviously  the  Explanation  was  a  lame  one.  I 
felt  myself  that  it  would  not  be  believed.  On  the 
face  of  my  Lord  Stour  thunderclouds  of  Wrath 
were  fast  gathering,  and  though  Mr.  Betterton  had 
recovered  his  presence  of  mind  with  all  the  Art  at 
his  command,  yet  there  was  a  glitter  in  his  eyes 
which  he  was  powerless  to  veil,  whilst  the  tremor 
of  her  Ladyship's  lips  while  she  strove  to  speak 
calmly  aroused  my  Lord  Stour's  ever-wakeful 
Jealousy. 

Lord  Douglas,  as  was  his  wont  apparently  when- 


MORE  THAN  A  PASSING  FANCY     103 

ever  he  was  deeply  moved,  was  pacing  up  and  down 
the  room;  his  hands  were  clasped  behind  his  back 
and  from  time  to  time  I  could  see  their  convulsive 
twitching.  Lord  Stour  now  silently  helped  her 
Ladyship  on  with  her  cloak.  I  was  thankful  that 
Mr.  Baggs  and  Mistress  Euphrosine  were  keeping 
in  the  background,  else  I  verily  believe  that  their  ob- 
sequious Snivellings  would  have  caused  my  quiver- 
ing Nerves  to  play  me  an  unpleasant  trick. 

Mr.  Betterton  had  retired  to  the  nearest  window 
recess,  so  that  I  could  not  see  him.  All  that  I  did 
see  were  the  two  Gentlemen  and  the  threatening 
Clouds  which  continued  to  gather  upon  their  Brows. 
I  also  heard  my  Lord  Stour  whisper  hurriedly  in 
Lord  Douglas'  ear : 

"  In  the  name  of  our  Friendship,  Man,  let  me  deal 
with  this." 

I  felt  as  if  an  icy  hand  had  gripped  my  Heart. 
I  could  not  conjecture  what  that  ominous  Speech 
could  portend.  Lady  Barbara  now  looked  very  pale 
and  troubled;  her  hands  as  they  fumbled  with  her 
cloak  trembled  visibly.  Lord  Stour,  with  a  master- 
ful gesture,  took  one  of  them  and  held  it  firmly 
under  his  arm. 

He  then  led  her  towards  the  door.  Just  before 
she  went  with  him,  however,  her  Ladyship  turned, 
and  I  imagine  sought  to  attract  Mr.  Betterton's 
attention. 

"  I  must  thank  you,  Sir,"  she  said,  with  a  final 
pathetic  attempt  at  Conciliation,  "  for  your  beautiful 
Recitation.  I  shall  be  greatly  envied,  methinks,  by 


104     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

those  who  have  only  heard  Mr.  Betterton  declaim 
upon  the  Stage." 

Lord  Douglas  had  gone  to  the  door.  He  opened 
it  and  stood  grimly  by  whilst  my  Lord  Stour 
walked  out,  with  her  Ladyship  upon  his  arm. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  OUTRAGE 


A  great  Sadness  descends  upon  my  Soul,  dear 
Mistress,  even  as  I  write.  Cold  shivers  course  up 
and  down  the  length  of  my  spine  and  mine  eyes  feel 
hot  with  tears  still  unshed — tears  of  Sorrow  and  of 
Shame,  aye !  and  of  a  just  Anger  that  it  should  have 
been  in  the  power  of  two  empty-headed  Coxcombs 
to  wreak  an  irreparable  Injury  upon  one  who  is  as 
much  above  them  as  are  the  Stars  above  the  grovel- 
ling Worms. 

I  use  the  words  "  irreparable  Injury  "  advisedly, 
dear  Lady,  because  what  happened  on  that  late  Sep- 
tember afternoon  will  for  ever  be  graven  upon  the 
Heart  and  Memory  of  a  great  and  noble  Man,  to  the 
exclusion  of  many  a  gentle  feeling  which  was  wont 
to  hold  full  sway  over  his  Temperament  before  then. 
Time,  mayhap,  and  the  triumph  of  a  great  Soul  over 
overwhelming  temptation,  have  no  doubt  somewhat 
softened  the  tearing  ache  of  that  cruel  brand;  but 
only  your  Hand,  fair  Mistress,  can  complete  the 
healing,  only  your  Voice  can.  with  its  tender  gentle- 
ness, drown  the  insistent  call  of  Pride  still  smarting 
for  further  Revenge. 

105 


106     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 


Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  did  not  speak  to  Mr. 
Betterton  after  her  Ladyship  and  my  Lord  Stour 
had  gone  out  of  the  room,  but  continued  his  rest- 
less pacing  up  and  down.  I  thought  his  Silence 
ominous. 

Half  consciously,  I  kept  my  attention  fixed  upon 
the  street  below,  and  presently  saw  the  Lady  Bar- 
bara get  into  her  chair  and  bid  adieu  to  his  Lordship, 
who  remained  standing  on  our  doorstep  until  th£ 
Sedan  was  borne  away  up  the  street  and  out  of  sight. 
Then,  to  my  astonishment,  he  walked  down  as  far 
as  the  Spread  Eagle  tavern  and  disappeared  within 
its  doors. 

The  Silence  in  our  parlour  was  getting  on  my 
nerves.  I  could  not  see  Mr.  Betterton,  only  Lord 
Douglas  from  time  to  time,  when  in  his  ceaseless 
tramping  his  short,  burly  figure  crossed  the  line  of 
my  vision. 

Anon  I  once  more  thought  of  my  Work.  There 
were  a  couple  more  copies  of  the  Manifesto  to  be 
done,  and  I  set  to,  determined  to  finish  them.  Time 
went  on,  and  the  afternoon  light  was  now  rapidly 
growing  dim.  Outside,  the  weather  had  not  im- 
proved. A  thin  rain  was  coming  down,  which 
turned  the  traffic-way  of  our  street  to  sticky  mud. 
I  remember,  just  after  I  had  completed  my  Work 
and  tidied  up  my  papers,  looking  out  of  the  window 
and  seeing,  in  the  now  fast-gathering  gloom,  the 
young  Lord  of  Stour  on  the  doorstep  of  the  Spread 


THE  OUTRAGE  107 

Eagle  tavern,  in  c'ose  conversation  with  half  a  dozen 
ill-clad  and  ill-conditioned  Ruffians.  But  I  gave  the 
matter  no  further  thought  just  then,  for  my  mind 
happened  to  be  engrossed  with  doubts  as  to  how  I 
should  convey  the  Copies  I  had  made  to  my  Em- 
ployer without  revealing  my  presence  to  Lord 
Douglas  Wychwoode. 

His  Lordship  himself,  however,  soon  relieved  me 
of  this  perplexity,  for  presently  he  came  to  a  halt 
by  the  door  which  led  to  fhe  inner  office  and  quite 
unceremoniously  pushed  it  open  and  walked  through. 
I  heard  his  peremptory  demrnds  for  the  Copies,  and 
Mr.  Baggs'  muttered  explanations.  But  I  did  not 
wait  a  moment  longer.  This  was  obviously  my  best 
opportunity  for  reappearing  upon  the  Scene  without 
his  Lordship  realizing  that  I  had  been  in  the  parlour 
all  the  time.  I  slipped  out  from  my  hiding  place  and 
carefully  rearranged  the  screen  in  its  former  posi- 
tion, then  I  tiptoed  across  the  room. 

In  the  gloom,  I  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Betterton 
standing  in  one  of  the  Recesses,  his  slender  white 
hands,  which  were  so  characteristic  of  his  refined, 
artistic  Personality,  were  clasped  behind  his  back. 
I  would  have  given  a  year  or  two  of  my  humdrum 
life  for  the  privilege  of  speaking  to  him  then  and  of 
expressing  to  him  some  of  that  Sympathy  with 
which  my  heart  was  overflowing.  But  no  one  knows 
better  than  I  how  proud  a  Man  he  is,  and  how  he 
would  have  resented  the  thought  that  any  one  else 
had  witnessed  his  Humiliation. 

So  I  executed  the  Manoeuvre  which  I  had  in  my 


108     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

mind  without  further  delay.  I  opened  the  door 
which  gave  on  the  stairs  noiselessly,  then  closed  it 
again  with  a  bang,  as  if  I  had  just  come  in.  Then  I 
strode  as  heavily  as  I  could  across  the  room  to  the 
door  of  the  inner  office,  against  which  I  then  rapped 
with  my  knuckles. 

"  Who's  that  ?  "  Mr.  Baggs'  voice  queried  im- 
mediately. 

"  The  Copies,  Sir,  which  you  ordered,"  I  replied 
in  a  firm  voice.  "  I  have  finished  them." 

"Come  in!  come  in!"  then  broke  in  Lctrd 
Douglas  impatiently.  c<  I  have  waited  in  this  ac- 
cursed hole  quite  long  enough." 

The  whole  thing  went  off  splendidly,  and  even 
Mr.  Baggs  did  subsequently  compliment  me  on  my 
clever  Ruse.  Lord  Douglas  never  suspected  the 
fact  that  I  had  not  been  out  of  the  Parlour  for  a 
moment,  but  had  heard  from  the  safe  shelter  of 
the  window-recess  everything  that  had  been  go- 
ing on. 

3 

When,  a  few  moments  later,  I  returned  to  the 
Parlour,  eager  to  have  a  few  minutes'  speech  with 
Mr.  Betterton,  I  saw  that  he  had  gone.  Anon, 
Kathleen,  the  maid,  brought  in  the  candles  and 
closed  the  shutters.  I  once  more  took  my  place  at 
my  desk,  but  this  time  made  no  use  of  the  screen. 
After  awhile,  Lord  Douglas  came  in,  followed  by 
the  ever-obsequious  Mr.  Baggs,  and  almost  directly 
after  that,  my  Lord  Stour  came  back. 


THE  OUTRAGE  109 

His  clothes  were  very  wet  and  he  shook  the  rain 
out  from  the  brim  of  his  hat. 

"  What  a  time  You  have  been ! "  Lord  Douglas 
said  to  him.  "  I  was  for  going  away  without  seeing 
You." 

"  I  wanted  to  find  out  what  had  happened  in 
here,"  my  Lord  Stour  gave  reply,  speaking  in  a 
whisper. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  FeHow  had  the  audacity  to  pay  his  ad- 
dresses to  Lady  Barbara,"  my  Lord  Stour  went  on, 
still  speaking  below  his  breath.  "  I  guessed  as  much, 
but  wanted  to  make  sure." 

Lord  Douglas  uttered  an  angry  Oath,  and  Lord 
Stour  continued  hurriedly : 

"  Such  Insolence  had  to  be  severely  punished,  of 
course ;  and  I  saw  to  it." 

"  How  ?  "  queried  the  other  eagerly. 

"  I  have  hired  half  a  dozen  Ruffians  from  the 
tavern  yonder,  to  waylay  him  with  sticks  on  his  way 
from  here,  and  to  give  him  the  sound  thrashing  he 
deserves." 

It  was  with  the  most  terrific  effort  at  self-control 
that  I  succeeded  in  smothering  the  Cry  of  Horror 
which  had  risen  to  my  lips.  As  it  was,  I  jumped  to 
my  feet  and  both  my  chair  and  the  candle  from  my 
desk  fell  with  a  clatter  to  the  floor.  I  think  that 
Mr.  Baggs  hurled  a  Volley  of  abuse  upon  me  for 
my  clumsiness  and  chided  me  in  that  the  grease  from 
the  candle  was  getting  wasted  by  dripping  on  the 
floor.  But  the  Gentlemen  paid  no  heed  to  me.  They 


110      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

were  still  engaged  in  their  abominable  conversation. 
While  I  stooped  to  pick  up  the  chair  and  the  candle, 
I  heard  my  Lord  Stour  saying  to  his  Friend : 

"  Come  with  me  and  see  the  Deed  accomplished. 
The  Mountebank  must  be  made  to  know  whose 
Hand  is  dealing  him  the  well-merited  punishment. 
My  Hirelings  meant  to  waylay  him  at  the  corner 
of  Spreadeagle  Court,  a  quiet  place  which  is  not  far 
from  here,  and  which  leads  into  a  blind  Alley. 
Quickly,  now,"  he  added ;  "  or  we  shall  be  too  late." 

More  I  did  not  hear;  for,  believe  me,  dear  Mis- 
tress, I  felt  like  one  possessed.  For  the  nonce,  I 
did  not  care  whether  I  was  seen  or  not,  whether  Mr. 
Baggs  guessed  my  purpose  or  not.  I  did  not  care  if 
he  abused  me  or  even  punished  me  later  for  my 
strange  behaviour.  All  that  I  knew  and  felt  just 
then  was  that  I  must  run  to  the  corner  of  Spread- 
eagle  Court,  where  one  of  the  most  abominable  Out- 
rages ever  devised  by  one  Man  against  Another  was 
even  then  being  perpetrated.  I  tore  across  the  room, 
through  the  door  and  down  the  stairs,  hatless,  my 
coat  tails  flying  behind  me,  like  some  Maniac  escap- 
ing from  his  Warders. 

I  ran  up  Chancery  Lane  faster,  I  think,  than  any 
man  ever  ran  before.  Already  my  ears  were  ring- 
ing with  the  sound  of  distant  shouts  and  scuffling. 
My  God!  grant  that  I  may  not  come  too  late.  I, 
poor,  weak,  feeble  of  body,  could  of  course  do 
nothing  against  six  paid  and  armed  Ruffians ;  but  at 
least  I  could  be  there  to  ward  off  or  receive  some  of 
the  blows  which  the  arms  of  the  sacrilegious  Mis- 


THE  OUTRAGE  111 

creants  were  dealing,  at  the  instance  of  miserable 
Coxcombs,  to  a  man  whose  Genius  and  Glory  should 
have  rendered  him  almost  sacred  in  their  sight. 

4 

As  long  as  I  live  will  that  awful  picture  haunt  me 
as  I  saw  it  then. 

You  know  the  Blind  Alley  on  the  left-hand  side  of 
Spreadeagle  Court,  with,  at  the  end  of  it,  the  great 
double  doorway  which  gives  on  the  back  premises 
of  Mr.  Brooks'  silk  warehouse.  It  was  against  that 
doorway  that  Mr.  Betterton  had  apparently  sought 
some  semblance  of  refuge  when  first  he  was  set  upon 
by  the  Ruffians.  By  the  time  that  I  reached  the 
corner  of  the  Blind  Alley,  he  had  fallen  against  the 
door;  for  at  first  I  could  not  see  him.  All  that  I 
saw  was  a  group  of  burly  backs,  and  arms  waving 
sticks  about  in  the  air.  All  that  I  heard,  oh,  my 
God!  were  ribald  cries  and  laughter,  and  sounds 
such  as  wild  animals  must  make  when  they  fall, 
hungry,  upon  their  Prey.  The  Ruffians,  I  make  no 
doubt,  had  no  grudge  against  their  Victim;  but 
they  had  been  well  instructed  and  would  be  well 
paid  if  their  foul  deed  was  conscientiously  accom- 
plished. 

My  Wrath  and  Anxiety  gave  me  the  strength 
which  I  otherwise  lack.  Pushing,  jostling,  crawl- 
ing, I  contrived  to  work  my  way  through  the  hideous 
Barrier  which  seethed  and  moved  and  shouted  be- 
twixt me  and  the  Man  whom  I  love. 

When  I  at  last  kneeled  beside  him,  I  saw  and 


112      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

heard  nothing  more.  I  did  not  feel  the  blows  which 
one  or  two  of  the  Ruffians  thought  fit  to  deal  to 
Me.  I  only  saw  him,  lying  there  against  the  door, 
panting,  bleeding  from  forehead  and  hands,  his 
clothes  torn,  his  noble  Face  of  a  deathly  Pallor.  I 
drew  his  handkerchief  from  his  coat  pocket  and 
staunched  the  wounds  upon  his  face ;  I  pillowed  his 
head  against  my  Shoulder ;  I  helped  him  to  struggle 
to  his  feet.  He  was  in  mortal  pain  and  too  weak 
to  speak;  but  a  ray  of  kindliness  and  of  gratitude 
flashed  through  his  eyes  when  he  recognised  me. 

The  Ruffians  were  apparently  satisfied  with  their 
hideous  work ;  but  they  still  stood  about  at  the  top 
of  the  Alley,  laughing  and  talking,  waiting  no  doubt 
for  their  Blood  Money.  Oh !  if  wishes  could  have 
struck  those  Miscreants  dumb  or  blind  or  palsied, 
my  feeble  voice  would  have  been  raised  to  Heaven, 
crying  for  Vengeance  on  such  an  infamous  Deed. 
Hot  tears  came  coursing  down  my  cheeks,  my  tem- 
ples throbbed  with  pain  and  Misery,  as  my  arm  stole 
round  the  trembling  figure  of  my  Friend. 

Then  all  at  once  those  tears  were  dried,  the  throb- 
bing of  my  temples  was  stilled.  I  felt  no  longer 
like  a  Man,  but  like  a  petrified  Statue  of  Indigna- 
tion and  of  Hate.  jThe  sound  of  my  Lord  Stour's 
Voice  had  just  struck  upon  mine  ear.  Vaguely 
through  the  gloom  I  could  see  him  and  Lord  Doug- 
las Wychwoode  parleying  with  those  abominable 
Ruffians.  ...  I  heard  the  jingle  of  Money 
.  .  .  Blood  Money  .  .  .  the  ring  of  ribald 
laughter,  snatches  of  a  bibulous  song. 


THE  OUTRAGE  113 

These  sounds  and  the  clang  of  the  Gentlemen's 
footsteps  upon  the  cobble-stones  also  reached  Mr. 
Betterton's  fast-fading  Senses.  I  felt  a  tremor 
coursing  right  through  his  limbs.  With  an  almost 
superhuman  Effort,  he  pulled  himself  together  and 
drew  himself  erect,  still  clinging  with  both  hands 
to  my  arms.  By  the  time  that  the  two  young  Cav- 
aliers had  reached  the  end  of  the  blind  Alley,  the 
outraged  Man  was  ready  to  confront  them.  Their 
presence  there,  those  sounds  of  jingling  money  and 
of  laughter,  had  told  him  the  whole  abominable  tale. 
He  fought  against  his  Weakness,  against  Pain  and 
against  an  impending  Swoon.  He  was  still  livid, 
but  it  was  with  Rage.  His  eyes  had  assumed  an 
unnatural  Fire;  his  whole  appearance  as  he  stood 
there  against  the  solid  background  of  the  massive 
door,  was  sublime  in  its  forceful  Expression  of  tow- 
ering Wrath  and  of  bitter,  deadly  Humiliation. 

Even  those  two  miserable  Coxcombs  paused  for 
an  instant,  silenced  and  awed  by  what  they  saw. 
The  laughter  died  upon  their  lips ;  the  studied  sneer 
upon  their  Face  gave  place  to  a  transient  expression 
of  fear. 

Mr.  Betterton's  arm  was  now  extended  and  with 
trembling  hand  he  pointed  at  Lord  Stour. 

'Tis  You "  he  murmured  hoarsely.    "  You 

— who  have  done — this  thing?" 

"  At  your  service,"  replied  the  young  Man,  with 
a  lightness  of  manner  which  was  obviously  forced 
and  a  great  show  of  Haughtiness  and  of  Insolence. 
"  My  friend  Lord  Douglas  here,  has  allowed  me  the 


HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

privilege  of  chastising  a  common  Mountebank  for 
daring  to  raise  his  eyes  to  the  Lady  Barbara  Wych- 
woode " 

At  mention  of  the  Lady's  name,  I  felt  Mr. 
Betterton's  clutch  on  my  arm  tighten  con- 
vulsively. 

"  Does  she "  he  queried,  "  does  she — know?  " 

"  I  forbid  You,"  interposed  Lord  Douglas  curtly, 
"  to  mention  my  Sister's  name  in  the  matter." 

"  'Tis  to  my  Lord  Stour  I  am  speaking,"  re- 
joined Mr.  Betterton  more  firmly.  Then  he  added : 
"You  will  give  me  satisfaction  for  this  outrage, 
my  Lord " 

"Satisfaction?"  riposted  his  Lordship  coolly. 
"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  One  of  us  has  got  to  die  because  of  this,"  Mr. 
Betterton  said  loudly. 

Whereupon  my  Lord  Stour  burst  into  a  fit  of 
hilarious  laughter,  which  sounded  as  callous  as  it 
was  forced. 

"  A  Duel  ? "  he  almost  shrieked,  in  a  rasping 
voice.  "  Ha !  ha !  ha !  a  Duel !  !  ! — a  duel  with  You? 
.  .  .  With  Tom  Betterton,  the  Son  of  a  Scullion. 
...  By  my  faith!  'tis  the  best  joke  you  ever 
made,  Sir  Actor  .  .  .  'tis  worth  repeating  upon 
the  Stage !  " 

But  the  injured  Man  waited  unmoved  until  his 
Lordship's  laughter  died  down  in  a  savage  Oath. 
Then  he  said  calmly : 

"The  day  and  hour,  my  Lord  Stour?" 

"  This  is  folly,  Sir,"  rejoined  the  young  Cavalier 


THE  OUTRAGE  115 

coldly.  "  The  Earl  of  Stour  can  only  cross  swords 
with  an  Equal." 

"  In  that  case,  my  lord,"  was  Mr.  Betterton's 
calm  reply,  "  you  can  only  cross  swords  henceforth 
with  a  Coward  and  a  Liar." 

"  Damned,  insolent  cur !  "  cried  Lord  Stour,  mad- 
dened with  rage  no  doubt  at  the  other's  calm  con- 
tempt. He  advanced  towards  us  with  arm  uplifted 
— then  perhaps  felt  ashamed,  or  frightened — I  know 
not  which.  Certain  it  is  that  Lord  Douglas  suc- 
ceeded in  dragging  him  back  a  step  or  two,  whilst 
he  said  with  well-studied  contempt : 

"  Pay  no  further  heed  to  the  fellow,  my  Friend. 
He  has  had  his  Punishment — do  not  bandy  further 
Words  with  him." 

He  was  for  dragging  Lord  Stour  away  quickly 
now.  I  do  believe  that  he  was  ashamed  of  the 
abominable  Deed.  At  any  rate,  he  could  not  bear 
to  look  upon  the  Man  who  had  been  so  diabolically 
wronged. 

"  Come  away,  Man !  "  he  kept  reiterating  at  in- 
tervals. "  Leave  him  alone !  " 

"  One  moment,  my  Lord,"  Mr.  Betterton  called 
out  in  a  strangely  powerful  tone  of  Voice.  "  I  wish 
to  hear  your  last  Word." 

By  now  we  could  hardly  see  one  another.  The 
Blind  Alley  was  in  almost  total  gloom.  Only  against 
the  fast-gathering  dusk  I  could  still  see  the  hated 
figures  of  the  two  young  Cavaliers,  their  outlines 
blurred  by  the  evening  haze.  Lord  Stour  was  cer- 
tainly on  the  point  of  going;  but  at  Mr.  Betterton's 


116      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

loudly  spoken  Challenge,  he  paused  once  more,  then 
came  a  step  or  two  back  towards  us. 

"My  last  Word?"  he  said  coldly.  Then  he 
looked  Mr.  Betterton  up  and  down,  his  every  Move- 
ment, his  whole  Attitude,  a  deadly  Insult.  "  One 
does  not  fight  with  such  as  You,"  he  said,  laughed, 
and  would  have  turned  away  immediately,  only  that 
Mr.  Betterton,  with  a  quick  and  unforeseen  Move- 
ment, suddenly  reached  forward  and  gripped  him 
by  the  Wrist. 

"  Insolent  puppy !  "  he  said  in  a  whisper,  so  hoarse 
and  yet  so  distinct  that  not  an  Intonation,  not  a 
syllable  of  it  was  lost,  "  that  knows  not  the  Giant 
it  has  awakened  by  its  puny  bark.  You  refuse  to 
cross  swords  with  Tom  Betterton,  the  son  of  a 
Menial,  as  you  choose  to  say?  Very  well,  then, 
'tis  Thomas  Betterton,  the  Artist  of  undying  re- 
nown, who  now  declares  war  against  You.  For 
every  Jeer  to-day,  for  every  Insult  and  for  every 
Blow,  he  will  be  even  with  You;  for  he  will  launch 
against  You  the  irresistible  Thunderbolt  that  kills 
worse  than  death  and  which  is  called  Dishonour! 
.  .  .  Aye !  I  will  fight  You,  my  Lord ;  not  to  your 
death,  but  to  your  undying  Shame.  And  now,"  he 
added  more  feebly,  as  he  threw  his  Lordship's  arm 
away  from  him  with  a  gesture  of  supreme  contempt, 
"go,  I  pray  You,  go!  I'll  not  detain  You  any 
longer.  You  and  your  friend  are  free  to  laugh  for 
the  last  time  to-day  at  the  name  which  I,  with  my 
Genius,  have  rendered  immortal.  Beware,  my 
Lord !  The  Ridicule  that  kills,  the  Obloquy  which 


THE  OUTRAGE  117 

smirches  worse  than  the  impious  hands  of  paid 
Lacqueys.  This  is  the  Word  of  Tom  Betterton, 
my  Lord;  the  first  of  his  name,  as  you,  please  God, 
will  be  the  last  of  yours!  " 

Then,  without  a  groan,  he  fell,  swooning,  upon 
my  shoulder.  When  consciousness  of  my  surround- 
ings once  more  returned  to  me,  I  realized  that  the 
two  Gentlemen  had  gone. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  GATHERING  STORM 


It  was  after  that  never-to-be-forgotten  Episode 
that  Mr.  Betterton  honoured  me  with  his  full  and 
entire  Confidence.  At  the  moment  that  he  clung  so 
pathetically  to  my  feeble  arms,  he  realized,  I  think 
for  the  first  time,  what  a  devoted  Friend  he  would 
always  find  in  me.  Something  of  the  powerful 
magical  Fluid  of  my  devotion  must  have  emanated 
from  my  Heart  and  reached  his  sensitive  Percep- 
tions. He  knew  from  that  hour  that,  while  I  lived 
and  had  Health  and  Strength,  I  should  never  fail 
him  in  Loyalty  and  willing  Service. 

Soon  afterwards,  if  you  remember,  Mr.  Better- 
ton  went  again  to  Paris,  by  command  of  His 
Majesty  this  time,  there  to  study  and  to  master  the 
whole  Question  of  Scenery  and  scenic  Effects  upon 
the  Stage,  such  as  is  practised  at  the  Theatre  de 
Moliere  in  the  great  City.  That  he  acquitted  him- 
self of  his  task  with  Honour  and  Understanding 
goes  without  saying.  The  rousing  Welcome  which 
the  public  of  London  gave  him  on  his  return  testi- 
fied not  only  to  his  Worth  but  also  to  his  Popularity. 

The  scenic  Innovations,  though  daring  and  at 
times  crudely  realistic,  did,  in  the  opinion  of  Ex- 

118 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  119 

perts,  set  off  the  art  of  Mr.  Betterton  to  the  greatest 
possible  Advantage.  No  doubt  that  his  overwhelm- 
ing Success  at  that  time  was  in  a  great  measure 
due  to  his  familiarity  with  all  those  authentic- 
looking  doors  and  trees  and  distant  skies  which  at 
first  bewildered  such  old-fashioned  actors  as  Mr. 
Harris  or  the  two  Messrs.  Noakes. 

Never  indeed  had  Mr.  Betterton  been  so  great 
as  he  was  now.  Never  had  his  Talents  stood  so  high 
in  the  estimation  of  the  cultured  World.  His  suc- 
cess as  Alvaro  in  "  Love  and  Honour,"  as  Solyman 
in  the  "Siege  of  Rhodes,"  as  Hamlett  or  Pericles, 
stand  before  me  as  veritable  Triumphs.  Bouquets 
and  Handkerchiefs,  scented  Notes  and  Love-tokens, 
were  showered  upon  the  brilliant  Actor  as  he  stood 
upon  the  Stage,  proudly  receiving  the  adulation  of 
the  Audience  whom  he  had  conquered  by  the  Magic 
of  his  Art. 

His  Majesty  hardly  ever  missed  a  Performance 
at  the  new  Duke's  Theatre  when  Mr.  Betterton 
was  acting,  nor  did  my  Lady  Castlemaine,  who  was 
shamelessly  vowing  about  that  time  that  she  was 
prepared  to  bestow  upon  the  great  Man  any  Favour 
he  might  ask  of  her. 


But  outwardly  at  any  rate,  Mr.  Betterton  had 
become  a  changed  Man.  His  robust  Constitution 
and  splendid  Vitality  did  in  truth  overcome  the 
physical  after-effects  of  the  abominable  Outrage  of 
which  he  had  been  the  Victim;  but  the  moral  con- 


120      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

sequences  upon  his  entire  character  and  demeanour 
were  indeed  incalculable.  Of  extraordinary  purity 
in  his  mode  of  living,  it  had  been  difficult,  before 
that  Episode,  for  evil  Gossip  to  besmirch  his  fair 
name,  even  in  these  lax  and  scandalous  times.  But 
after  that  grim  September  afternoon  it  seemed  as 
if  he  took  pride  in  emulating  the  least  esti- 
mable characteristics  of  his  Contemporaries.  His 
Majesty's  avowed  predilection  for  the  great  Actor 
brought  the  latter  into  daily  contact  with  all  those 
noble  and  beautiful  Ladies  who  graced  the  Court 
and  Society,  more  by  virtue  of  their  outward  ap- 
pearance than  of  their  inner  worth.  Scarce  ever 
was  a  banquet  or  fete  given  at  While  Hall  now  but 
Mr.  Betterton  was  not  one  of  the  most  conspicuous 
guests;  never  a  Supper  party  at  my  Lady  Castle- 
maine's  or  my  Lady  Shrewsbury's  but  the  famous 
Actor  was  present  there.  He  was  constantly  in  the 
company  of  His  Grace  of  Buckingham,  of  my  Lord 
Rochester  and  others  of  those  noble  young  Rakes; 
his  name  was  constantly  before  the  Public;  he  was 
daily  to  be  seen  on  the  Mall,  or  in  St.  James's  Park, 
or  at  the  more  ceremonious  parade  in  Hyde  Park. 
His  elegant  clothes  were  the  talk  of  every  young 
Gallant  that  haunted  Fop's  Corner;  his  sallies  were 
quoted  by  every  Cavalier  who  strove  for  a  reputa- 
tion as  a  wit.  In  fact,  dear  Lady,  You  know  just 
as  well  as  I  do,  that  for  that  brief  period  of  his 
life  Mr.  Betterton  became  just  one  of  the  gay,  idle, 
modish  young  Men  about  town,  one  of  that  hard- 
drinking,  gambling,  scandal-mongering  crowd  of 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  121 

Idlers,  who  were  none  of  them  fit  to  tie  the  lacets 
of  his  shoes. 

I,  who  saw  more  and  more  of  him  in  those  days, 
knew,  however,  that  all  that  gay,  butterfly  Exist- 
ence which  he  led  was  only  on  the  surface.  To  me 
he  was  like  some  poor  Animal  stricken  by  a  mortal 
wound,  who,  nevertheless,  capers  and  gyrates  be- 
fore a  grinning  Public  with  mechanical  movements 
of  the  body  that  have  nothing  in  common  with  the 
mind. 


Of  the  beautiful  Lady  Barbara  I  saw  but  little 
during  the  autumn. 

There  was  much  talk  in  the  Town  about  her  forth- 
coming Marriage  to  my  Lord  of  Stour,  which  was 
to  take  place  soon  after  the  New  Year.  Many  were 
the  conjectures  as  to  why  so  suitable  a  Marriage 
did  not  take  place  immediately,  and  it  seemed 
strange  that  so  humble  and  insignificant  a  Person  as 
I  was  could  even  then  have  supplied  the  key  to  the 
riddle  which  was  puzzling  so  many  noble  Ladies 
and  Gentlemen.  I  knew,  in  my  humble  capacity  as 
Spectator  of  great  events,  that  the  Marriage  would 
only  take  place  after  the  vast  and  treasonable 
projects  which  had  originated  in  my  Lord  Douglas 
Wychwoode's  turbulent  mind  had  come  to  a  suc- 
cessful issue. 

I  often  confided  to  You,  dear  Mistress,  in  those 
days  that  Mr.  Betterton,  in  the  kindness  of  his 
Heart,  had  made  me  many  an  offer  to  leave  my 


122     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

present  humdrum  employment  and  to  allow  myself 
to  be  attached  to  his  Person  as  his  private  Secretary 
and  personal  Friend.  For  a  long  time  I  refused  his 
offers — tempting  and  generous  though  they  were — 
chiefly  because  if  I  had  gone  then  to  live  with  Mr. 
Betterton,  I  should  have  been  irretrievably  sepa- 
rated from  You.  But  in  my  Heart  I  knew  that, 
though  the  great  Man  was  not  in  pressing  need  of  a 
Secretary,  his  soul  did  even  long  and  yearn  for  a 
Friend.  A  more  devoted  one,  I  vow,  did  not  exist 
than  my  humble  self;  and  when,  during  the  early 
part  of  the  autumn,  You,  dear  Mistress,  finally  de- 
cided to  leave  your  present  uncomfortable  quarters 
for  lodgings  more  befitting  your  growing  Fame  and 
your  Talents,  there  was  nothing  more  to  keep  me 
tied  to  my  dour  and  unsympathetic  Employer,  and 
to  his  no  less  unpleasant  Spouse. 

I  therefore  gave  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs  notice 
that  I  had  resolved  to  quit  his  Employ,  hoping  that 
my  Decision  would  meet  with  his  Convenience. 

I  could  not  help  laughing  to  myself  when  I  saw 
the  manner  in  which  he  received  this  Announce- 
ment. To  say  that  he  was  surprised  and  indignant 
would  be  to  put  it  mildly;  indeed,  he  used  every 
Mode  of  persuasion  to  try  and  make  me  alter  my 
decision.  He  began  by  chiding  me  for  an  Ingrate, 
vowing  that  he  had  taught  me  all  I  knew  and  had 
lavished  Money  and  Luxuries  upon  me,  and  that  I 
was  proposing  to  leave  him  just  when  the  time  had 
come  for  him  to  see  some  slight  return  for  his 
Expenditure  and  for  his  pains,  in  my  growing  Effi- 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  123 

ciency.  He  went  on  to  persuade,  to  cajole  and  to 
bribe,  Mistress  Euphrosine  joining  him  both  in 
Vituperation  and  in  Unctuousness.  But,  as  You 
know,  I  was  adamant.  I  knew  the  value  of  all  this 
soft-sawder  and  mouth-honour.  I  had  suffered  too 
many  Hardships  and  too  many  Indignities  at  the 
hands  of  these  selfish  Sycophants,  to  turn  a  deaf 
ear  now  that  friendship  and  mine  own  future  hap- 
piness called  to  me  so  insistently. 

Finally,  however,  I  yielded  to  the  extent  of  agree- 
ing to  stay  a  further  three  months  in  the  service  of 
Mr.  Baggs,  whilst  he  took  steps  to  find  another 
Clerk  who  would  suit  his  purpose.  But  I  only 
agreed  to  this  on  the  condition  that  I  was  to  be 
allowed  a  fuller  amount  of  personal  Freedom  than 
I  had  enjoyed  hitherto;  that  I  should  not  be  set  any 
longer  to  do  menial  tasks,  which  properly  pertained 
to  a  Scullion;  and  that,  whenever  my  clerical  work 
for  the  day  was  done,  I  should  be  at  liberty  to 
employ  my  time  as  seemed  best  to  me. 

Thus  it  was  that  I  had  a  certain  amount  of  leisure, 
and  after  You  left  us,  fair  Mistress,  I  was  able  to 
take  my  walks  abroad,  there  where  I  was  fairly 
certain  of  meeting  You,  or  of  having  a  glimpse  of 
Mr.  Betterton,  surrounded  by  his  brilliant  Friends. 

Often,  dear  Mistress,  did  You  lavish  some  of  your 
precious  time  and  company  upon  the  seedy  Attor- 
ney's Clerk,  who  of  a  truth  was  not  worthy  to  be 
seen  walking  in  the  Park  or  in  Mulberry  Gardens  be- 
side the  beautiful  and  famous  Mistress  Saunderson, 
who  by  this  time  had  quite  as  many  Followers  and 


124      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Adorers  as  any  virtuous  Woman  could  wish  for. 
You  never  mentioned  Mr.  Betterton  to  me  in  those 
days,  even  though  I  knew  that  You  must  often  have 
been  thrown  in  his  Company,  both  in  the  Theatre 
and  in  Society.  That  your  love  for  him  had  not 
died  in  your  Heart,  I  knew  from  the  wistful  look 
which  was  wont  to  come  into  your  eyes  whenever 
You  chanced  to  meet  him  in  the  course  of  a  Prome- 
nade. You  always  returned  his  respectful  and 
elaborate  bow  on  those  occasions  with  cool  Com- 
posure; but  as  soon  as  he  had  passed  by  and  his  rich, 
mellow  Voice,  so  easily  distinguishable  amongst 
others,  had  died  away  in  the  distance,  I,  who  knew 
every  line  of  your  lovely  face,  saw  the  familiar 
look  of  Sorrow  and  of  bitter  Disappointment  once 
more  mar  its  perfect  serenity. 

4 

We  had  an  unusually  mild  and  prolonged  autumn 
this  past  year,  if  you  remember,  fair  Mistress;  and 
towards  the  end  of  October  there  were  a  few  sunny 
days  which  were  the  veritable  aftermath  of  Sum- 
mer. The  London  Parks  and  Gardens  were 
crowded  day  after  day  with  Ladies  and  Gallants, 
decked  in  their  gayest  attire,  for  the  time  to  don 
winter  clothing  still  appeared  remote. 

I  used  to  be  fond  of  watching  all  these  fair  Ladies 
and  dazzling  Cavaliers,  and  did  so  many  a  time  on 
those  bright  mornings  whilst  waiting  to  see  You 
pass.  On  one  occasion  I  saw  the  Lady  Barbara 
Wychwoode,  in  company  with  my  Lord  Stour. 


125 

Heaven  knows  I  have  no  cause  to  think  kindly 
of  her;  but  truth  compels  me  to  say  that  she  ap- 
peared to  me  more  beautiful  than  ever  before.  She 
and  his  Lordship  had  found  two  chairs,  up  against 
a  tree,  somewhat  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  glit- 
tering throng.  I,  as  a  Spectator,  could  see  that  they 
were  supremely  happy  in  one  another's  company. 

"How  sweet  the  air  is!"  she  was  sighing  con- 
tentedly. More  like  spring  than  late  autumn. 
Ah,  me !  How  happily  one  could  dream !  " 

She  threw  him  a  witching  glance,  which  no  doubt 
sent  him  straight  to  Heaven,  for  I  heard  him  say 
with  passionate  earnestness : 

"Of  what  do  Angels  dream,  my  beloved?" 

They  continued  to  whisper,  and  I  of  course  did 
not  catch  all  that  they  said.  My  Lord  Stour  was 
obviously  very  deeply  enamoured  of  the  Lady  Bar- 
bara. Because  of  this  I  seemed  to  hate  and  despise 
him  all  the  more.  Oh!  when  the  whole  World 
smiled  on  him,  when  Fortune  and  Destiny  showered 
their  most  precious  gifts  into  his  lap,  what  right  had 
he  to  mar  the  soul  which  God  had  given  him  with 
such  base  Passions  as  Jealousy  and  Cruelty  ?  With 
his  monstrous  Act  of  unwarrantable  violence  he  had 
ruined  the  happiness  of  a  Man  greater,  finer  than 
himself ;  he  had  warped  a  noble  disposition,  soured 
a  gentle  and  kindly  spirit.  Oh!  I  hated  him!  I 
hated  him!  God  forgive  me,  but  I  had  not  one 
spark  of  Christian  spirit  for  him  within  my  heart. 
If  it  lay  in  my  power,  I  knew  that  I  was  ready  to 
do  him  an  Injury. 


126      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

From  time  to  time  I  heard  snatches  of  his  im- 
passioned speeches.  "Barbara,  my  beloved!  Oh, 
God !  how  I  love  You !  "  Or  else :  "  'Tis  unspeak- 
able joy  to  look  into  your  eyes,  joyous  madness  to 
hold  your  little  hand ! "  And  more  of  such  stuff, 
as  Lovers  know  how  to  use. 

And  she,  too,  looked  supremely  happy.  There 
was  a  sparkle  yi  her  eyes  which  spoke  of  a  Soul 
intoxicated  with  delight.  She  listened  to  him  as  if 
every  word  from  his  lips  was  heaven-sent  Manna 
to  her  hungering  heart.  And  I  marvelled  why  this 
should  be;  why  she  should  listen  to  this  self- 
sufficient,  empty-headed  young  Coxcomb  and  have 
rejected  with  such  bitter  scorn  the  suit  of  a  Man 
worthy  in  every  sense  to  be  the  Mate  of  a  Queen. 
And  I  thought  then  of  Mr.  Betterton  kneeling 
humbly  before  her,  his  proud  Head  bent  before  this 
ignorant  and  wilful  Girl,  who  had  naught  but  cruel 
words  for  him  on  her  lips.  And  a  great  wrath  pos- 
sessed me,  greater  than  it  ever  had  been  before.  I 
suppose  that  I  am  very  wicked  and  that  the  Devil 
of  Revenge  had  really  possessed  himself  of  my 
Soul;  but  then  and  there,  under  the  trees,  with  the 
translucent  Dome  of  blue  above  me,  I  vowed  bitter 
hatred  against  those  two,  vowed  that  Fate  should 
be  even  with  them  if  I,  the  humble  Clerk,  could 
have  a  say  in  her  decrees. 

5 

Just  now,  they  were  like  two  Children  playing  at 
love.  He  was  insistent  and  bold,  tried  to  draw  her 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  127 

to  him,  to  kiss  her  in  sight  of  the  fashionable  throng 
that  promenaded  up  and  down  the  Avenue  less  than 
fifty  yards  away. 

"  A  murrain  on  the  Conventions !  "  he  said  with 
a  light  laugh,  as  she  chided  him  for  his  ardour. 
"  I  want  the  whole  Universe  to  be  witness  of  my 
joy." 

She  placed  her  pretty  hand  playfully  across  his 
mouth. 

"  Hush,  my  dear  Lord,"  she  said  with  wonderful 
tenderness.  "  Heaven  itself,  they  say,  is  oft  times 
jealous  to  see  such  Happiness  as  ours.  .  .  .  And 
I  am  so  happy  ..."  she  continued  with  a  deep 
sigh,  "  so  happy  that  sometimes  a  horrible  presenti- 
ment seems  to  grip  my  heart  ..." 

"  Presentiment  of  what,  dear  love  ?  "  he  queried 
lightly. 

I  did  not  catch  what  she  said  in  reply,  for  just 
at  that  moment  I  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Betterton 
walking  at  a  distant  point  of  the  Avenue,  in  the 
Company  of  a  number  of  admiring  Friends. 

They  were  hanging  round  him,  evidently  vastly 
amused  by  some  witty  sallies  of  his.  Never  had  I 
seen  him  look  more  striking  and  more  brilliant. 
He  wore  a  magnificent  coat  of  steel-grey  velvet 
with  richly  embroidered  waistcoat,  and  a  cravat  and 
frills  of  diaphanous  lace,  whilst  the  satin  breeches, 
silk  stockings  and  be-ribboned  shoes  set  off  his 
shapely  limbs  to  perfection.  His  Grace  of  Buck- 
ingham was  walking  beside  him,  and  he  had  my 
Lady  Shrewsbury  upon  his  arm,  whilst  among  his 


128      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Friends  I  recognised  my  Lords  Orrery  and  Buck- 
hurst,  and  the  Lord  Chancellor  himself. 

The  Lady  Barbara  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Betterton, 
too,  I  imagine,  for  as  I  moved  away,  I  heard  her 
say  in  a  curiously  constrained  voice : 

"  That  man — my  Lord — he  is  your  deadly 
Enemy." 

"  Bah !  "  he  retorted  with  a  careless  shrug  of  the 
shoulders.  "  Actors  are  like  toothless,  ill-tempered 
curs.  They  bark,  but  they  are  powerless  to 
bite!" 

Oh,  I  hated  him!  Heavens  above!  how  I  hated 
him! 

How  puny  and  insignificant  he  was  beside  his 
unsuccessful  Rival  should  of  a  surety  have  been 
apparent  even  to  the  Lady  Barbara.  Even  now, 
Mr.  Betterton,  with  a  veritable  crowd  of  Courtiers 
around  him,  had  come  to  a  halt  not  very  far  from 
where  those  two  were  sitting ;  and  it  was  very  char- 
acteristic of  him  that,  even  whilst  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham was  whispering  in  his  ear  and  the  Countess 
of  Shrewsbury  was  smiling  archly  at  him,  his  eyes 
having  found  me,  he  nodded  and  waved  his  hand 
to  me. 


A  minute  or  two  later,  another  group  of  Ladies 
and  Gallants,  amongst  whom  Her  Grace  the 
Duchess  of  York  was  conspicuous  by  her  elegance 
and  the  richness  of  her  attire,  literally  swooped 
down  upon  Mr.  Betterton  and  his  Friends,  and  Her 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  129 

Grace's  somewhat  high-pitched  voice  came  ringing 
shrilly  to  mine  ear. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Betterton !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Where 
have  you  hid  yourself  since  yesterday,  you  wicked, 
adorable  Man  ?  And  I,  who  wished  to  tell  you  how 
entirely  splendid  was  your  performance  in  that 
supremely  dull  play  you  call  '  Love  and  Honour.' 
You  were  superb,  Sir,  positively  superb!  ...  I 
was  telling  His  Grace  a  moment  ago  that  every 
Actor  in  the  world  is  a  mere  Mountebank  when 
compared  with  Mr.  Betterton's  Genius." 

And  long  did  she  continue  in  the  same  strain, 
most  of  the  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  agreeing  with 
her  and  engaging  in  a  chorus  of  Eulogy,  all  deliv- 
ered in  high  falsetto  voices,  which  in  the  olden  days, 
when  first  I  knew  him,  would  have  set  Mr.  Better- 
ton's  very  teeth  on  edge.  But  now  he  took  up  the 
ball  of  airy  talk,  tossed  it  back  to  the  Ladies,  bowed 
low  and  kissed  Her  Grace's  hand — I  could  see  that 
she  gave  his  a  significant  pressure — gave  wit  for  wit 
and  flattery  for  flattery. 

He  had  of  a  truth  made  a  great  success  the  day 
before  in  a  play  called  "  Love  and  Honour,"  writ 
by  Sir  William  Davenant,  when  His  Majesty  him- 
self lent  his  own  Coronation  Suit  to  the  great  Actor, 
so  that  he  might  worthily  represent  the  part  of 
Prince  Alvaro.  This  Success  put  the  crowning 
Glory  to  his  reputation,  although  in  my  humble 
opinion  it  was  unworthy  of  so  great  an  Artist  as 
Mr.  Betterton  to  speak  the  Epilogue  which  he  had 
himself  written  in  eulogy  of  the  Countess  of  Castle- 


130      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

maine,  and  which  he  delivered  with  such  magnificent 
Diction  at  the  end  of  the  Play,  that  His  Majesty 
waxed  quite  enthusiastic  in  his  applause. 

7 

Standing  somewhat  apart  from  that  dazzling 
group,  I  noticed  my  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode,  in 
close  conversation  with  my  Lord  Teammouth  and 
another  Gentleman,  who  was  in  clerical  attire. 
After  awhile,  my  Lord  Stour  joined  them,  the 
Lady  Barbara  having  apparently  slipped  away  un- 
observed. 

My  Lord  Stour  was  greeted  by  his  friends  with 
every  mark  of  cordiality. 

"Ah! "  the  Cleric  exclaimed,  and  extended  both 
his  hands — which  were  white  and  plump — to  my 
Lord.  "  Here  is  the  truant  at  last ! "  Then  he 
waxed  playful,  put  up  an  accusing  finger  and  added 
with  a  smirking  laugh :  "  Meseems  I  caught  sight 
of  a  petticoat  just  behind  those  trees,  where  his 
Lordship  himself  had  been  apparently  communing 
with  Nature,  eh  ?  " 

Whereupon  my  Lord  Teammouth  went  on,  not 
unkindly  and  in  that  dogmatic  way  which  he  was 
pleased  to  affect :  "  Youth  will  ever  smile,  even  in 
the  midst  of  dangers ;  and  my  Lord  Stour  is  a  great 
favourite  with  the  Ladies." 

Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  was  as  usual  petulant 
and  impatient,  and  rejoined  angrily : 

"  Even  the  Castlemaine  has  tried  to  cast  her  nets 
around  him." 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  131 

My  Lord  Stour  demurred,  but  did  not  try  to 
deny  the  soft  impeachment. 

"  Only  because  I  am  new  at  Court,"  he  said,  "  and 
have  no  eyes  for  her  beauty." 

This,  of  course,  was  News  to  me.  I  am  so  little 
versed  in  Court  and  Society  gossip  and  had  not 
heard  the  latest  piece  of  scandal,  which  attributed  to 
the  Lady  Castlemaine  a  distinct  penchant  for  the 
young  Nobleman.  Not  that  it  surprised  me  alto- 
gether. The  newly  created  Countess  of  Castle- 
maine, who  was  receiving  favours  from  His 
Majesty  the  King  with  both  hands,  never  hesitated 
to  deceive  him,  and  even  to  render  him  ridiculous 
by  flaunting  her  predilections  for  this  or  that  young 
Gallant  who  happened  to  have  captured  her  way- 
ward fancy.  My  Lord  Sandwich,  Colonel  Hamil- 
ton, the  handsome  Mr.  Wycherley,  and  even  such  a 
vulgar  churl  as  Jacob  Hill,  the  rope  dancer,  had  all, 
at  one  time  or  another,  been  favoured  with  the  lady's 
fitful  smiles,  and  while  responding  to  her  advances 
with  the  Ardour  born  of  Cupidity  or  of  a  desire  for 
self-advancement  rather  than  of  true  love,  they  had 
for  the  most  part  lost  some  shreds  of  their  Repu- 
tation and  almost  all  of  their  Self-respect. 

But  at  the  moment  I  paid  no  heed  to  Lord  Doug- 
las'  taunt  levelled  at  his  Friend,  nor  at  the  latter's 
somewhat  careless  way  of  Retort.  In  fact,  the 
whole  Episode  did  not  then  impress  itself  upon  my 
mind,  and  it  was  only  in  face  of  later  events  that  I 
was  presently  to  be  reminded  of  it  all. 


132     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

8 

For  the  moment  I  was  made  happy  by  renewed 
kindly  glances  from  Mr.  Betterton.  It  seemed  as 
if  his  eyes  had  actually  beckoned  to  me,  so  I  made 
bold  to  advance  nearer  to  the  dazzling  group  of 
Ladies  and  Gentlemen  that  stood  about,  talking — 
jabbering,  I  might  say,  like  a  number  of  gay- 
plumaged  birds,  for  they  seemed  to  me  irresponsible 
and  unintellectual  in  their  talk. 

Of  course,  I  could  not  hear  everything,  and  I 
had  to  try  and  make  my  unfashionably  attired  Per- 
son as  inconspicuous  as  possible.  So  I  drew  a  book 
from  my  pocket,  one  that  looked  something  like  a 
Greek  Lexicon,  though  in  truth  it  was  a  collection 
of  Plays  writ  by  the  late  Mr.  William  Shakespeare, 
in  one  or  two  of  which — notably  in  one  called 
"  Hamlett  " — Mr.  Betterton  had  scored  some  of  his 
most  conspicuous  Triumphs. 

The  book,  and  my  seeming  absorption  in  it,  gave 
me  the  countenance  of  an  earnest  young  Student 
intent  on  the  perusal  of  Classics,  even  whilst  it 
enabled  me  to  draw  quite  near  to  the  brilliant 
Throng  of  Distinguished  People,  who,  if  they  paid 
any  heed  to  me  at  all,  would  find  excuses  for  my 
Presumption  in  my  obvious  earnest  Studiousness. 
I  was  also  able  to  keep  some  of  my  attention  fixed 
upon  Mr.  Betterton,  who  was  surrounded  by  admir- 
ing Friends;  whilst  at  some  little  distance  close  by, 
I  could  see  Mr.  Harris — also  of  the  Duke's  Theatre 
— who  was  holding  forth  in  a  didactic  manner  be- 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  133 

fore  a  group  of  Ladies  and  gay  young  Sparks,  even 
though  they  were  inclined  to  mock  him  because  of 
his  Conceit  in  pitting  his  talent  against  that  of  Mr. 
Betterton. 

There  was  no  doubt  that  a  couple  of  years  ago 
Mr.  Harris  could  be,  and  was  considered,  the 
greatest  Actor  of  his  time;  but  since  Mr.  Betterton 
had  consolidated  his  own  triumph  by  playing  the 
parts  of  Pericles,  of  Hamlett  and  of  Prince  Alvaro 
in  "  Love  and  Honour,"  the  older  Actor's  reputa- 
tion had  undoubtedly  suffered  by  comparison  with 
the  Genius  of  his  younger  Rival,  at  which  of  course 
he  was  greatly  incensed.  I  caught  sight  now  and 
then  of  his  florid  face,  so  different  in  expression  to 
Mr.  Betterton's  more  spiritual-looking  countenance, 
and  from  time  to  time  his  pompous,  raucous  voice 
reached  my  ears,  as  did  the  more  strident,  high- 
pitched  voices  of  the  Ladies.  I  heard  one  young 
Lady  say,  to  the  accompaniment  of  some  pretty, 
mincing  gestures : 

"  Mr.  Betterton  was  positively  rapturous  last 
night  .  .  .  enchanting!  You,  Mr.  Harris,  will  in 
truth  have  to  look  to  your  laurels." 

And  an  elderly  Lady,  a  Dowager  of  obvious  con- 
sideration and  dignity,  added  in  tones  which  brooked 
of  no  contradiction : 

'  My  opinion  is  that  there  never  has  been  or  ever 
will  be  a  Player  equal  to  Mr.  Betterton  in  Purity 
of  Diction  and  Elegance  of  Gesture.  He  hath  in- 
deed raised  our  English  Drama  to  the  level  of  High 
Art." 


134      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

I  could  have  bowed  low  before  her  and  kissed 
her  hand  for  this ;  aye !  and  have  paid  homage,  too, 
to  all  these  gaily-dressed  Butterflies  who,  in  truth, 
had  more  Intellectuality  in  them  than  I  had  given 
them  credit  for.  Every  word  of  Eulogy  of  my 
beloved  Friend  was  a  delight  to  my  soul.  I  felt 
mine  eyes  glowing  with  enthusiasm  and  had  grave 
difficulty  in  keeping  them  fixed  upon  my  book. 

I  had  never  liked  Mr.  Harris  personally,  for  I 
was  wont  to  think  his  conceit  quite  overweening 
beside  the  unalterable  modesty  of  Mr.  Betterton, 
who  was  so  incomparably  his  Superior;  and  I  was 
indeed  pleased  to  see  that  both  the  Dowager  Lady — 
who,  I  understood,  was  the  Marchioness  of  Badles- 
mere — and  the  younger  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  felt 
mischievously  inclined  to  torment  him. 

"  What  is  your  opinion,  Mr.  Harris?  "  my  Lady 
Badlesmere  was  saying  to  the  discomfited  Actor. 
"  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  one  Player's 
opinion  of  another." 

She  had  a  spy-glass,  through  which  she  regarded 
him  quizzically,  whilst  a  mocking  smile  played 
around  her  thin  lips.  This,  no  doubt,  caused  poor 
Mr.  Harris  to  lose  countenance,  for  as  a  rule  he  is 
very  glib  of  tongue.  But  just  now  he  mouthed  and 
stammered,  appeared  unable  to  find  his  words. 

"  It  cannot  be  denied,  your  Ladyship,"  he  began 
sententiously  enough,  "  that  Mr.  Betterton's  ges- 
tures are  smooth  and  pleasant,  though  they  perhaps 
lack  the  rhythmic  grandeur  .  .  .  the  dignified 
sweep  ...  of  ...  of  ...  the  ..." 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  135 

He  was  obviously  floundering,  and  the  old  Lady 
broke  in  with  a  rasping  laugh  and  a  tone  of  some- 
what acid  sarcasm. 

"Of  the  gestures  of  Mr.  Harris,  you  mean,  eh?  " 

"  No,  Madam,"  he  retorted  testily,  and  distinctly 
nettled.  "  I  was  about  to  say  '  of  the  gestures  of 
our  greatest  Actors/ ' 

"  Surely  the  same  thing,  dear  Mr.  Harris,"  a 
young  Lady  rejoined  with  well-assumed  demure- 
ness,  and  dropped  him  a  pert  little  curtsey. 

I  might  have  been  sorry  for  the  Man — for  of  a 
truth  these  small  pin-pricks  must  have  been  very 
irritating  to  his  Vanity,  already  sorely  wounded  by 
a  younger  Rival's  triumph — but  for  the  fact  that 
he  then  waxed  malicious,  angered  no  doubt  by  hear- 
ing a  veritable  Chorus  of  Eulogy  proceeding  from 
that  other  group  of  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  of  which 
Mr.  Betterton  was  the  centre. 

I  do  not  know,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  who  it  was 
who  first  gave  a  spiteful  turning  to  the  bantering, 
mocking  Conversation  of  awhile  ago;  but  in  my 
mind  I  attributed  this  malice  to  Lord  Douglas 
Wychwoode,  who  came  up  with  his  clerical  friend 
just  about  this  time,  in  order  to  pay  his  respects  to 
the  Marchioness  of  Badlesmere,  who,  I  believe,  is 
a  near  Relative  of  his.  Certain  it  is  that  very  soon 
after  his  arrival  upon  the  scene,  I  found  that  every 
one  around  him  was  talking  about  the  abominable 
Episode,  the  very  thought  of  which  sent  my  blood 
into  a  Fever  and  my  thoughts  running  a  veritable 
riot  of  Revenge  and  of  Hate.  Of  course,  Mr.  Har- 


136     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

ris  was  to  the  fore  with  pointed  Allusions  to  the 
grave  Insult  done  to  an  eminent  Artist,  and  which, 
to  my  thinking,  should  have  been  condemned  by 
every  right-minded  Man  or  Woman  who  had  a 
spark  of  lofty  feeling  in  his  or  her  heart. 

"Ah,  yes!"  one  of  the  Ladies  was  saying;  "I 
heard  about  it  at  the  time  ...  a  vastly  diverting 
story.  ..." 

"  Which  went  the  round  of  the  Court,"  added 
another. 

"  Mr.  Betterton's  shoulders,"  a  gay  young  Spark 
went  on  airily,  "  are  said  to  be  still  very  sore." 

"  And  his  usually  equable  Temper  the  sorer  of  the 
two." 

Lord  Douglas  did  not  say  much,  but  I  felt  his 
spiteful  Influence  running  as  an  undercurrent 
through  all  that  flippant  talk. 

"  Faith ! "  concluded  one  of  the  young  Gallants, 
"  were  I  my  Lord  Stour,  I  would  not  care  to  have 
Mr.  Betterton  for  an  enemy." 

"  An  Actor  can  hit  with  great  accuracy  and 
harshness  from  the  Stage,"  Mr.  Harris  went  on 
pompously.  "  He  speaks  words  which  a  vast  Public 
hears  and  goes  on  to  repeat  ad  infinitum.  Thus  a 
man's — aye!  or  a  Lady's — reputation  can  be  made 
or  marred  by  an  Epilogue  spoken  by  a  popular 
Player  at  the  end  of  a  Drama.  We  all  remember 
the  case  of  Sir  William  Liscard,  after  he  had  quar- 
relled with  Mr.  Kynaston." 

Whereupon  that  old  story  was  raked  up,  how  Mr. 
Kynaston  had  revenged  himself  for  an  insult  upon 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  137 

him  by  Sir  William  Liscard  by  making  pointed 
Allusions  from  the  Stage  to  the  latter's  secret  in- 
trigue with  some  low-class  wench,  and  to  the  Pun- 
ishment which  was  administered  to  him  by  the 
wench's  vulgar  lover.  The  Allusions  were  unmis- 
takable, because  that  punishment  had  taken  the  form 
of  a  slit  nose,  and  old  Sir  William  had  appeared  in 
Society  one  day  with  a  piece  of  sticking  plaster 
across  the  middle  of  his  face. 

Well,  we  all  know  what  happened  after  that.  Sir 
William,  covered  with  Ridicule,  had  to  leave  Lon- 
don for  awhile  and  bury  himself  in  the  depths  of  the 
Country,  for,  in  Town  he  could  not  show  his  face 
in  the  streets  but  he  was  greeted  with  some  vulgar 
lampoon  or  ribald  song,  hurled  at  him  by  passing 
roisterers.  It  all  ended  in  a  Tragedy,  for  Lady 
Liscard  got  to  hear  of  it,  and  there  was  talk  of 
Divorce  proceedings,  which  would  have  put  Sir 
William  wholly  out  of  Court — His  Majesty  being 
entirely  averse  to  the  dissolution  of  any  legal  Mar- 
riage. 

But  all  this  hath  naught  to  do  with  my  story,  and 
I  only  recount  the  matter  to  You  to  show  You  how, 
in  an  instant,  the  temper  of  all  these  great  Ladies 
and  Gentlemen  can  be  swayed  by  the  judicious  hand- 
ling of  an  evil-minded  Person. 

All  these  Ladies  and  young  Rakes,  who  awhile 
ago  were  loud  in  their  praises  of  a  truly  great  Man, 
now  found  pleasure  in  throwing  mud  at  him,  ridi- 
culing and  mocking  him  shamefully,  seeing  that, 
had  he  been  amongst  them,  he  would  soon  have  con- 


138     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

founded  them  with  his  Wit  and  brought  them  back 
to  Allegiance  by  his  magic  Personality. 

Once  again  I  heard  a  distinct  Allusion  to  the 
Countess  of  Castlemaine's  avowed  predilection  for 
Lord  Stour.  It  came  from  one  of  the  Cavaliers, 
who  said  to  Lord  Douglas,  with  an  affected  little 
laugh : 

"  Perhaps  my  Lord  Stour  would  do  well  to  place 
himself  unreservedly  under  the  protection  of  Lady 
Castlemaine !  Tis  said  that  she  is  more  than  willing 
to  extend  her  Favours  to  him." 

"  Nay !  Stour  hath  nothing  to  fear,"  Lord  Doug- 
las replied  curtly.  "  He  stands  far  above  a  mere 
Mountebank's  spiteful  pin-pricks." 

Oh!  had  but  God  given  me  the  power  to  strike 
such  a  Malapert  dumb!  I  looked  around  me,  mar- 
velling if  there  was  not  one  sane  Person  here  who- 
would  stand  up  in  the  defence  of  a  great  and  tal- 
ented Artist  against  this  jabbering  of  irresponsible 
Monkeys. 


I  must  admit,  however,  that  directly  Mr.  Better- 
ton  appeared  upon  the  scene  the  tables  were  quickly 
turned  once  more  on  Mr.  Harris,  and  even  on  Lord 
Douglas,  for  Mr.  Betterton  is  past  Master  in  the 
art  of  wordy  Warfare,  and,  moreover,  has  this  great 
Advantage,  that  he  never  loses  control  over  his 
Temper.  No  malicious  shaft  aimed  at  him  will  ever 
ruffle  his  Equanimity,  and  whilst  his  Wit  is  most 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  139 

caustic,  he  invariably  retains  every  semblance  of 
perfect  courtesy. 

He  now  had  the  Duchess  of  York  on  his  arm, 
and  His  Grace  of  Buckingham  had  not  left  his  side. 
His  Friends  were  unanimously  chaffing  him  about 
that  Epilogue  which  he  had  spoken  last  night,  and 
which  had  so  delighted  the  Countess  of  Castlemaine. 
My  Lord  Buckhurst  and  Sir  William  Davenant  were 
quoting  pieces  out  of  it,  whilst  I  could  only  feel 
sorry  that  so  great  a  Man  had  lent  himself  to  such 
unworthy  Flattery. 

"'Divinity,  radiant  as  the  stars!*"  Lord  Buck- 
hurst  quoted  with  a  laugh.  "  By  gad,  you  Rogue, 
you  did  not  spare  your  words." 

Mr.  Betterton  frowned  almost  imperceptibly,  and 
I,  his  devoted  Admirer,  guessed  that  he  was  not  a 
little  ashamed  of  the  fulsome  Adulation  which  he 
had  bestowed  on  so  unworthy  an  Object,  and  I  was 
left  to  marvel  whether  some  hidden  purpose  as  yet 
unknown  to  me  had  actuated  so  high-minded  an 
Artist  thus  to  debase  the  Art  which  he  held  so  dear. 
It  was  evident,  however,  that  the  whole  Company 
thought  that  great  things  would  come  from  that 
apparently  trivial  incident. 

"  My  Lady  Castlemaine,"  said  Sir  William  Dave- 
nant, "  hath  been  wreathed  in  smiles  ever  since  you 
spoke  that  Epilogue.  She  vows  that  there  is  nothing 
she  would  not  do  for  You.  And,  as  already  You  are 
such  a  favourite  with  His  Majesty,  why,  Man!  there 
is  no  end  to  your  good  fortune." 

And  I,  who  watched  Mr.  Betterton's  face  again, 


140      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

thought  to  detect  a  strange,  mysterious  look  in  his 
eyes — something  hidden  and  brooding  was  going  on 
behind  that  noble  brow,  something  that  was  alto- 
gether strange  to  the  usually  simple,  unaffected  and 
sunny  temperament  of  the  great  Artist,  and  which 
I,  his  intimate  Confidant  and  Friend,  had  not  yet 
been  able  to  fathom. 

Whenever  I  looked  at  him  these  days,  I  was  con- 
scious as  of  a  sultry  Summer's  day,  when  nature  is 
outwardly  calm  and  every  leaf  on  every  tree  is  still. 
It  is  only  to  those  who  are  initiated  in  the  mysteries 
of  the  Skies  that  the  distant  oncoming  Storm  is 
revealed  by  a  mere  speck  of  cloud  or  a  tiny  haze 
upon  the  Bosom  of  the  Firmament,  which  hath  no 
meaning  to  the  unseeing  eye,  but  which  foretells 
that  the  great  forces  of  Nature  are  gathering  up 
their  strength  for  the  striking  of  a  prodigious  blow. 


CHAPTER  VII 

AN  ASSEMBLY  OF  TRAITORS 


I,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  relegated  the  remem- 
brance of  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  and  his 
treasonable  Undertakings  to  a  distant  cell  of  my 
mind.  I  had  not  altogether  forgotten  them,  but 
had  merely  ceased  to  think  upon  the  Subject. 

I  was  still  nominally  in  the  employ  of  Mr.  Baggs, 
but  he  had  engaged  a  new  Clerk — a  wretched,  puny 
creature,  whom  Mistress  Euphrosine  already  held  in 
bondage — and  I  was  to  leave  his  Service  definitely 
at  the  end  of  the  month. 

In  the  meanwhile,  my  chief  task  consisted  in 
initiating  the  aforesaid  wretched  and  puny  Clerk 
into  the  intricacies  of  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs'  busi- 
ness. The  boy  was  slow-witted  and  slow  to  learn, 
and  Mr.  Baggs,  who  would  have  liked  to  prove  to 
me  mine  own  Worthlessness,  was  nevertheless 
driven  into  putting  some  of  his  more  important 
work  still  in  my  charge. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  all  his  Correspondence 
with  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  went  through  my 
Hands,  whereby  I  was  made  aware  that  the  Traitors 
— for  such  in  truth  they  were — were  only  waiting 
for  a  favourable  opportunity  to  accomplish  their 
damnable  Purpose. 

141 


142      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

They  meant  to  kidnap  His  Majesty's  sacred  Per- 
son, to  force  him  to  sign  an  Abdication  in  favour 
of  the  son  of  Mistress  Barlow — now  styled  the  Duke 
of  Monmouth — with  the  Prince  of  Orange  as 
Regent  during  the  Duke's  minority. 

A  more  abominable  and  treasonable  Project  it 
were  impossible  to  conceive,  and  many  a  wrestling 
match  did  I  have  with  mine  own  Conscience,  whilst 
debating  whether  it  were  my  Duty  or  no  to  betray 
the  confidence  which  had  been  reposed  in  me,  and 
to  divulge  the  terrible  Secret  of  that  execrable  plot, 
which  threatened  the  very  life  of  His  Majesty  the 
King. 

I  understood  that  the  Manifestos  which  it  had 
been  my  task  to  multiplicate,  had  met  with  some 
success.  Several  Gentlemen,  who  held  rigidly 
Protestant  views,  had  promised  their  support  to  a 
project  which  ostensibly  aimed  at  the  overthrow  of 
the  last  vestiges  of  Popery  in  the  Country.  My 
Lord  Stour,  who  had  also  become  a  firm  Adherent 
of  the  nefarious  scheme,  in  deference,  I  presume, 
to  the  Lady  Barbara's  wishes  in  the  matter,  had,  it 
seems,  rendered  valuable  service  to  the  cause,  by 
travelling  all  over  the  Country,  seeing  these  pro- 
posed Adherents  in  person  and  distributing  the  fiery 
Manifestos  which  were  to  rally  the  Waverers  to  the 
cause. 

I  imagined,  however,  that  the  whole  project  was 
in  abeyance  for  the  moment,  for  I  had  heard  but 
little  of  it  of  late;  until  one  day  I  happened  to  be 
present  when  the  Conspirators  met  in  the  house  of 
Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs. 


AN  ASSEMBLY  OF  TRAITORS         143 

How  it  came  to  pass  that  these  Gentlemen — who 
were  literally  playing  with  their  lives  in  their  ne- 
farious undertaking — talked  thus  openly  of  their 
Plans  and  Projects  in  my  hearing,  I  do  not  pretend 
to  say.  It  is  certain  that  they  did  not  suspect  me; 
thought  me  one  of  themselves,  no  doubt,  since  I 
had  written  out  the  Manifestos  and  was  Clerk  to 
Mr.  Baggs,  who  was  with  them  Body  and  Soul. 
No  doubt,  had  Mr.  Baggs  been  on  the  spot  on  that 
day,  he  would  have  warned  the  Traitors  of  my  pres- 
ence, and  much  of  what  happened  subsequently 
would  never  have  occurred. 

Thus  doth  Fate  at  times  use  simple  tools  to  gain 
her  own  ends,  and  it  was  given  to  an  insignificant 
Attorney's  Clerk  to  rule,  for  this  one  day,  the  future 
Destinies  of  England. 


My  Lord  Stour  was  present  on  that  memorable 
afternoon.  I  am  betraying  no  Secret  nor  doing  him 
an  injury  by  saying  that,  because  his  connection 
with  the  Affair  is  of  public  knowledge,  as  is  that  of 
Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode.  The  names  of  the  other 
Gentlemen  whom  I  saw  in  Mr.  Baggs'  room  that 
day  I  will,  by  your  leave,  keep  hidden  behind  the 
veil  of  Anonymity,  contenting  myself  by  calling  the 
most  important  among  them  my  Lord  S.,  and  an- 
other Sir  J.,  whilst  there  was  also  present  on  that 
occasion  the  gentleman  in  clerical  Attire  whom  I 
had  seen  of  late  in  Lord  Douglas'  Company,  and 
who  was  none  other  than  the  Lord  Bishop  of  D. 

My  Lord  Stour  was  in  great  favour  amongst 


144      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

them  all.  Every  one  was  praising  him  and  shaking 
him  by  the  hand.  His  Lordship  the  Bishop  took  it 
upon  himself  to  say,  as  he  did  most  incisively : 

"  Gentlemen !  I  am  proud  and  happy  to  affirm 
that  it  is  to  the  Earl  of  Stour  that  we  shall  owe 
to-night  the  Success  of  our  Cause.  It  is  he  who 
has  distributed  our  Appeal  and  helped  to  rally  round 
us  some  of  our  most  loyal  Friends!  " 

Lord  Stour  demurred,  deprecated  his  own  efforts. 
His  Attitude  was  both  modest  and  firm;  I  had  not 
thought  him  capable  of  so  much  Nobility  of  Manner. 

But,  believe  me,  dear  Mistress,  that  I  felt  literally 
confounded  by  what  I  heard.  Mr.  Baggs,  who  had 
pressing  business  in  town  that  day,  had  commanded 
me  to  remain  at  home  in  order  to  receive  certain 
Gentlemen  who  were  coming  to  visit  him.  I  had 
introduced  some  half-dozen  of  them,  and  they  had 
all  gone  into  the  inner  office,  but  left  the  communi- 
cating door  between  that  room  and  the  parlour  wide 
open,  apparently  quite  acquiescing  in  my  presence 
there.  In  fact,  they  had  all  nodded  very  familiarly 
to  me  as  they  entered ;  evidently  they  felt  absolutely 
certain  of  my  Discretion.  This,  as  you  will  readily 
understand,  placed  me  in  a  terrible  Predicament. 
Where  lay  my  duty,  I  did  not  know;  for,  in  truth, 
to  betray  the  Confidence  of  those  who  trust  in  You 
is  a  mean  and  low  trick,  unworthy  of  a  right-minded 
Christian.  At  the  same  time,  there  was  His 
Majesty  the  Kings'  own  sacred  Person  in  peril,  and 
that,  as  far  as  I  could  gather,  on  this  very  night; 
and  surely  it  became  equally  the  duty  of  every  loyal 


AN  ASSEMBLY  OF  TRAITORS         145 

Subject  in  the  land  to  try  and  protect  his  Sovereign 
from  the  nefarious  attacks  of  Traitors! 

Be  that  as  it  may,  however,  I  do  verily  believe 
that  if  my  Lord — Stour  whom  I  hated  with  so 
deadly  a  hatred,  and  who  had  done  my  dear,  dear 
Friend  such  an  irreparable  injury — if  he,  I  say,  had 
not  been  mixed  up  in  the  Affair,  I  should  have  done 
my  duty  as  a  Christian  rather  than  as  a  subject  of 
the  State. 

But  You,  dear  Mistress,  shall  be  judge  of  mine 
actions,  for  they  have  a  direct  bearing  upon  those 
subsequent  events  which  have  brought  Mr.  Betterton 
once  again  to  your  feet. 

I  have  said  that  my  Lord  Stour  received  his 
Friends'  congratulations  and  gratitude  with  becom- 
ing Modesty;  but  his  Lordship  the  Bishop  and  also 
Lord  S.  insisted. 

"  It  is  thanks  to  your  efforts,  my  dear  Stour," 
Lord  S.  said,  "  that  at  last  success  is  assured." 

"  But  for  you,"  added  the  Bishop,  "  our  plan 
to-night  might  have  miscarried." 

My  God !  I  thought,  then  it  is  for  to-night !  And 
I  felt  physically  sick,  whilst  wondering  what  I 
should  do.  Even  then,  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode's 
harsh  Voice  came  quite  clearly  to  mine  ear. 

'The  day  is  ours!"  he  said,  with  a  note  of 
triumph  in  his  tone.  "  Ere  the  sun  rises  again  over 
our  downtrodden  Country,  her  dissolute  King  and 
his  Minions  will  be  in  our  hands !  " 

"  Pray  God  it  may  be  so!  "  assented  one  of  the 
others  piously. 


146      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  It  shall  and  will  be  so,"  protested  Lord  Douglas 
with  firm  emphasis.  "  I  know  for  a  fact  that  the 
King  sups  with  the  Castlemaine  to-night.  Well! 
we  are  quite  ready.  By  ten  o'clock  we  shall  have 
taken  up  our  Positions.  These  have  all  been  most 
carefully  thought  out.  Some  of  us  will  be  in  hiding 
in  the  Long  Avenue  in  the  Privy  Garden;  others 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Wall  of  the  Bowling 
Green;  whilst  others  again  have  secured  excellent 
points  of  vantage  in  King  Street.  I  am  in  com- 
mand of  the  Party,  and  I  give  you  my  word  that 
my  Company  is  made  up  of  young  Enthusiasts. 
They,  like  ourselves,  have  had  enough  of  this  cor- 
rupt and  dissolute  Monarch,  who  ought  never  to 
have  been  allowed  to  ascend  the  Throne  which  his 
Father  had  already  debased." 

"  You  will  have  to  be  careful  of  the  Night  Watch- 
men about  the  Gardens,  and  of  the  Bodyguard  at 
the  Gate,"  one  of  the  Gentlemen  broke  in. 

"  Of  course  we'll  be  careful,"  Lord  Douglas 
riposted  impatiently.  "  We  have  minimized  our 
risks  as  far  as  we  are  able.  But  the  King,  when  he 
sups  with  the  Castlemaine,  usually  goes  across  to  her 
House  unattended.  Sometimes  he  takes  a  Man  with 
him  across  the  Privy  Gardens,  but  dismisses  him 
at  the  back  door  of  Her  Ladyship's  House.  As  for 
the  City  Watchmen  over  in  King  Street,  they  will 
give  us  no  trouble.  If  they  do,  we  can  easily  over- 
power them.  The  whole  thing  is  really  perfectly 
simple,"  he  added  finally;  "  and  the  only  reason  why 
we  have  delayed  execution  is  because  we  wanted  as 


AN  ASSEMBLY  OF  TRAITORS         147 

many  Sympathizers  here  in  London  as  pos- 
sible." 

"  Now,"  here  interposed  His  Lordship  the  Bishop, 
"  thanks  to  my  Lord  Stour's  efforts,  a  number  of 
our  Adherents  have  come  up  from  the  country  and 
have  obtained  lodgings  in  various  Quarters  of  the 
town,  so  that  to-morrow  morning,  when  we  pro- 
claim the  Duke  of  Monmouth  King  and  the  Prince 
of  Orange  Regent  of  the  Realm,  we  shall  be  in 
sufficient  numbers  to  give  to  our  successful  Coup 
the  appearance  of  a  national  movement." 

"  Personally,"  rejoined  Lord  Douglas,  with  some- 
thing of  a  sneer,  "  I  think  that  the  Populace  will  be 
very  easily  swayed.  The  Castlemaine  is  not  popular. 
The  King  is;  but  it  is  a  factitious  Popularity,  and 
one  easily  blown  upon,  once  we  have  his  Person 
safely  out  of  the  way.  And  we  must  remember 
that  the  '  No  Popery '  cry  is  still  a  very  safe 
card  to  play  with  the  mob,"  he  added  with  a  dry 
laugh. 

Then  they  all  fell  to  and  discussed  their  abomin- 
able Plans  all  over  again;  whilst  I,  bewildered, 
•wretched,  indignant,  fell  on  my  knees  and  marvelled, 
pondered  what  I  should  do.  My  pulses  were  throb- 
bing, my  head  was  on  fire ;  I  had  not  the  faculty  for 
clear  thinking.  And  there,  in  the  next  room,  not 
ten  paces  away  from  where  I  knelt  in  mute  and 
agonized  Prayer,  six  Men  were  planning  an  outrage 
against  their  King;  amidst  sneers  and  mirthless 
laughter  and  protestations  of  loyalty  to  their  Coun- 
try, they  planned  the  work  of  Traitors.  They  drew 


148      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

their  Swords  and  there  was  talk  of  invoking  God's 
blessing  upon  their  nefarious  Work. 

God's  blessing !  Methought  'twas  Blasphemy,  and 
I  put  my  hands  up  to  mine  ears  lest  I  should  hear 
those  solemn  words  spoken  by  a  consecrated  Bishop 
of  our  Church,  and  which  called  for  the  Almighty's 
help  to  accomplish  a  second  Regicide. 

Aye!  A  Regicide!  What  else  was  it?  as  all 
those  fine  Gentlemen  knew  well  enough  in  their 
hearts.  Would  not  the  King  resist  ?  He  was  young 
and  vigorous.  Would  he  not  call  for  help?  Had 
not  my  Lady  Castlemaine  Servants  who  would  rush 
to  His  Majesty's  assistance?  What  then?  Was 
there  to  be  murder  once  more,  and  bloodshed  and 
rioting — fighting  such  as  we  poor  Citizens  of  this 
tortured  land  had  hoped  was  behind  us  forever? 

And  if  it  came  to  a  hand-to-hand  scuffle  with  the 
King's  most  Sacred  Majesty?  My  God!  I  shud- 
dered to  think  what  would  happen  then ! 

There  was  a  mighty  humming  in  my  ears,  like 
the  swarm  of  myriads  of  bees;  a  red  veil  gradually 
spread  before  my  eyes,  which  obscured  the  familiar 
Surroundings  about  me.  Through  the  haze  which 
gradually  o'er-clouded  my  brain,  I  heard  the  voices 
of  those  Traitors  droning  out  their  blasphemous 
Oaths. 

"  Swear  only  to  draw  your  swords  in  this  just 
cause,  and  not  to  shed  unnecessary  blood !  " 

And  then  a  chorus  which  to  my  ears  sounded  like 
the  howling  of  Evil  Spirits  let  loose  from  hell : 

"We  swear!" 


AN  ASSEMBLY  OF  TRAITORS        149 

"  Then  may  God's  blessing  rest  upon  You.  May 
His  Angels  guard  and  protect  You  and  give  You 
the  strength  to  accomplish  what  You  purpose 
to  do!" 

There  was  a  loud  and  prolonged  "  Amen !  "  But 
I  waited  no  longer.  I  rose  from  my  knees,  suddenly 
calm  and  resolved.  Do  not  laugh  at  me,  dear  Mis- 
tress, for  my  conceit  and  my  presumption  when  I 
say  that  I  felt  that  the  destinies  of  England  rested 
in  my  hands. 

Another  Regicide!  Oh,  my  God!  Another  era 
of  civil  Strife  and  military  Dictatorship  such  as  we 
had  endured  in  the  past  decade!  Another  era  of 
Suspicions  and  Jealousies  and  Intrigues  between  the 
many  Factions  who  would  wish  to  profit  by  this 
abominable  crime!  It  was  unthinkable.  Whether 
the  King  was  God's  Anointed  or  not,  I,  for  one,  am 
too  ignorant  to  decide;  but  this  I  know,  that  the 
Stuart  Prince  was  chosen  little  more  than  a  year 
ago  by  the  will  of  his  People,  that  he  returned  to 
England  acclaimed  and  beloved  by  this  same  Popu- 
lace which  was  now  to  be  egged  on  to  treason  against 
him  by  a  handful  of  ambitious  Malcontents,  who 
did  not  themselves  know  what  it  was  they  wanted. 

No !  It  should  not  be !  Not  while  there  existed 
an  humble  and  puny  subject  of  this  Realm  who  had 
it  in  his  power  to  put  a  spoke  in  the  wheel  of  that 
Chariot  of  Traitors. 

Ah!  there  was  no  more  wavering  in  my  heart 
now !  no  more  doubts  and  hesitation !  I  would  not 
be  betraying  the  confidence  of  a  trusting  Man; 


150      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

merely  disposing  of  a  secret  which  Chance  had 
tossed  carelessly  in  my  path — a  Secret  which  per- 
tained to  abominable  Miscreants,  one  of  whom  was 
the  man  whom  I  detested  more  than  any  one  or  any- 
thing on  God's  earth — a  flippant,  arrogant  young 
Reprobate  who  had  dared  to  level  a  deadly  insult 
against  a  Man  infinitely  his  superior  in  Intellect  and 
in  Worth,  and  before  whom  now  he  should  be  made 
to  lick  the  dust  of  Ignominy. 

I  was  now  perfectly  calm.  From  my  desk  I  took 
a  copy  of  the  Manifesto  which  had  remained  in  my 
possession  all  this  while.  I  read  the  contents  through 
very  carefully,  so  as  to  refresh  my  memory.  Then 
I  took  up  my  pen  and,  at  the  foot  of  the  treasonable 
document,  I  wrote  the  word :  "  To-night."  Hav- 
ing done  that,  I  took  a  sheet  of  notepaper  and  care- 
fully wrote  down  the  names  of  all  the  Gentlemen 
who  were  even  now  in  the  next  room,  and  of  several 
others  whom  I  had  heard  mentioned  by  the  Traitors 
in  the  course  of  their  Conversation.  The  two 
papers  I  folded  carefully  and  closed  them  down  with 
sealing  wax. 

My  hand  did  not  shake  whilst  I  did  all  this.  I 
was  perfectly  deliberate,  for  my  mind  was  irre- 
vocably made  up.  When  I  had  completed  these 
preparations,  I  slipped  the  precious  Documents  into 
my  pocket,  took  up  my  hat  and  cloak,  and  went  out 
to  accomplish  the  Errand  which  I  had  set  myself 
to  do. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  LION'S  WRATH 


His  Majesty  the  King  was,  of  course,  inaccessible 
to  such  as  I.  And  the  time  was  short. 

Did  I  say  that  the  hour  was  even  then  after  six? 
The  streets  were  very  dark,  for  overhead  the  sky 
was  overcast,  and  as  I  walked  rapidly  down  the 
Lane  to  the  Temple  Stairs,  a  thin,  penetrating 
drizzle  began  to  fall. 

My  first  thought  had  been  to  take  boat  to  West- 
minster and  to  go  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Betterton  in 
Tothill  Street,  there  to  consult  with  him  as  to  what 
would  be  my  best  course  to  pursue.  But  I  feel  sure 
that  You,  dear  Mistress,  will  understand  me  when  I 
say  that  I  felt  a  certain  pride  in  keeping  my  present 
Project  to  myself. 

I  was  not  egotistical  enough  to  persuade  myself 
that  love  of  Country  and  loyalty  to  my  King  were 
the  sole  motive  powers  of  my  Resolve.  My  inner- 
most Heart,  my  Conscience  perhaps,  told  me  that  an 
ugly  Desire  for  Revenge  had  helped  to  stimulate  my 
patriotic  Ardour.  I  had  realized  that  it  lay  in  my 
power  to  avenge  upon  an  impious  Malapert  the 
hideous  Outrage  which  he  had  perpetrated  against 
the  Man  whom  I  loved  best  in  all  the  World. 

151 


152      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

I  had  realized,  in  fact,  that  I  could  become  the 
instrument  of  Mr.  Betterton's  revenge. 

That  my  Denunciation  of  the  abominable  Con- 
spiracy would  involve  the  Disgrace — probably  the 
Death — of  others  who  were  nothing  to  me,  I  did 
not  pause  to  consider.  They  were  all  Traitors,  any- 
how, and  all  of  them  deserving  of  punishment. 

So,  on  the  whole,  I  decided  to  act  for  myself. 
When  I  had  seen  the  Countess  of  Castlemaine  and 
had  put  her  on  her  guard,  I  would  go  to  Mr.  Better- 
ton  and  tell  him  what  I  had  done. 

I  beg  you  to  believe,  however,  dear  Mistress,  that 
no  thought  of  any  reward  had  entered  my  mind, 
other  than  a  Word  of  Appreciation  from  my  Friend. 


I  had,  as  perhaps  you  know,  a  slight  acquaintance 
with  Mistress  Floid,  who  is  one  of  my  Lady  Castle- 
maine's  tire-women.  Through  her,  I  obtained 
speech  with  her  Ladyship. 

It  was  not  very  difficult.  I  sent  in  the  two  Docu- 
ments through  Mistress  Floid's  hands.  Five  min- 
utes later  I  was  told  that  my  Lady  desired  speech 
with  me. 

I  was  a  little  bewildered  and  somewhat  dazzled 
to  be  in  the  presence  of  so  great  a  lady.  The  rich- 
ness of  the  House,  the  liveries  of  the  Servants,  the 
superciliousness  of  the  Lacqueys,  all  tended  to  dis- 
compose me;  whilst  the  subtle  Scent  of  Spice  and 
Perfumes  which  hung  in  the  air  and  the  chorus  of 
bird-song  which  came  from  an  unseen  Aviary, 


THE  LION'S  WRATH  153 

helped  to  numb  my  Senses.  I  was  thankful  that  I 
had  not  trusted  to  Speech  and  Memory,  but  had  set 
documentary  Evidence  forward  to  prove  what  I 
had  to  say. 

Of  my  interview  with  her  Ladyship  I  have  only 
a  confused  memory.  I  know  that  she  asked  many 
questions  and  listened  to  my  stammering  replies 
with  obvious  impatience;  but  I  have  only  a  very 
vague  recollection  of  her  flashing  Eyes,  of  her  Face, 
flaming  with  anger,  of  her  jewelled  Hand  clutching 
the  documents  which  I  had  brought,  and  of  the 
torrent  of  vituperative  abuse  which  she  poured  upon 
the  Traitors,  who  she  vowed  would  pay  with  their 
lives  for  their  Infamy.  I  know  that,  in  the  end,  I 
was  allowed  to  kiss  her  hand  and  that  she  thanked 
me  in  her  own  Name  and  that  of  His  Majesty  for 
my  Loyalty  and  my  Discretion. 

I  went  out  of  the  room  and  out  of  the  house  like 
a  Man  in  a  dream.  A  whirl  of  conflicting  Emotions 
was  rending  my  heart  and  my  brain,  until  sheer 
physical  nausea  caused  me  nigh  to  swoon. 

Truly  it  was  a  terrible  Experience  for  a  simple- 
minded  Clerk  to  go  through,  and  it  is  a  marvel  to 
me  that  my  brain  did  not  give  way  under  the 
Strain. 

But  my  instinct — like  that  of  a  faithful  dog  seek- 
ing shelter — led  me  to  the  lodgings  of  Mr.  Better- 
ton  in  Tothill  Street,  the  very  house  in  which  his 
father  had  lived  before  him. 

He  had  not  yet  returned  from  the  Theatre,  where 
he  was  at  Rehearsal ;  but  his  Servant  knew  me  well 


154.     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

and  allowed  me  to  go  up  into  the  parlour  and  to  lie 
down  upon  the  sofa  for  a  moment's  rest. 

It  was  then  nearing  seven,  and  I  knew  that  Mr. 
Betterton  would  soon  be  coming  home.  I  now 
felt  infinitely  weary;  numbness  of  body  and  brain 
had  followed  the  conflicting  Emotions  of  the  past 
hours,  and  I  was  only  conscious  of  an  overwhelm- 
ing desire  to  rest. 

I  closed  my  eyes.  The  place  was  warm  and  still  ; 
a  veritable  Haven  of  Quietude.  And  it  was  the 
place  where  dwelt  the  Man  for  whose  sake  I  had 
just  done  so  much.  For  awhile  I  watched  the  play 
of  the  firelight  upon  the  various  articles  of  furni- 
ture in  the  room;  but  soon  a  pleasing  Torpor  in- 
vaded my  tired  Brain,  and  I  fell  asleep. 

3 

The  sound  of  Voices  upon  the  landing  outside,  the 
opening  and  closing  of  one  door  and  then  another, 
recalled  me  to  myself.  The  familiar  sound  of  my 
Friend's  footsteps  gave  me  an  infinity  of  Pleasure. 

The  next  moment  Mr.  Betterton  came  into  the 
room.  He  was  preceded  by  his  Servant,  who 
brought  in  a  couple  of  Candles  which  he  placed  upon 
the  table.  Apparently  he  had  said  nothing  to  his 
Master  about  my  presence  here,  for  Mr.  Betterton 
seemed  vastly  surprised  when  he  saw  me.  I  had 
just  jumped  to  my  feet  when  I  heard  him  entering 
the  room,  and  I  suppose  that  I  must  have  looked 
somewhat  wild  and  dishevelled,  for  he  expressed 
great  astonishment  at  my  Appearance. 


THE  LION'S  WRATH  155 

Astonishment,  and  also  Pleasure. 

"  Why,  friend  Honey  wood !  "  he  exclaimed,  and 
came  to  greet  me  with  both  hands  outstretched. 
"  What  favourable  Wind  hath  blown  you  to  this 
port?" 

He  looked  tired  and  very  much  aged,  methought. 
He,  a  young  Man,  then  in  the  prime  of  Life,  looked 
harassed  and  weary;  all  the  Elasticity  seemed  to 
have  gone  out  of  his  Movements,  all  the  Springiness 
from  his  Footstep.  He  sat  down  and  rested  his 
elbows  on  his  knees,  clasped  his  slender  hands  to- 
gether and  stared  moodily  into  the  fire. 

I  watched  him  for  awhile.  His  clear-cut  Profile 
was  outlined  like  an  Italian  Cameo  against  the 
dark  angle  of  the  room;  the  firelight  gave  a  strange 
glow  to  his  expressive  Eyes  and  to  the  sensitive 
Mouth  with  the  firm  lips  pressed  closely  together, 
as  if  they  would  hold  some  Secret  which  was  even 
then  threatening  to  escape. 

That  look  of  dark  and  introspective  Brooding  sat 
more  apparent  now  than  ever  upon  his  mobile 
face,  and  I  marvelled  if  the  News  which  I  was  about 
to  impart  would  tend  to  dissipate  that  restless, 
searching  glance,  which  seemed  for  ever  to  be  prob- 
ing into  the  future  decrees  of  Fate. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  news,  Sir,"  I  said  after 
a  while. 

He  started  as  from  a  Reverie,  and  said  half- 
absently : 

"News?    What  news,  friend?     Good,  I  hope." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied  very  quietly,  even  though  I  felt 


156     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

that  my  heart  was  beating  fast  within  my  breast 
with  excitement.  "  Good  news  of  the  Man  You 
hate." 

He  made  no  reply  for  the  moment,  and  even  by 
the  dim,  uncertain  light  of  the  fire  I  could  see  the 
quick  change  in  his  face.  I  cannot  explain  it  exactly, 
but  it  seemed  as  if  something  Evil  had  swept  over 
it,  changing  every  noble  line  into  something  that  was 
almost  repellent. 

My  heart  beat  faster  still.  I  was  beginning  to 
feel  afraid  and  a  queer,  choking  Sensation  gripped 
me  by  the  throat  and  silenced  the  Words  which  were 
struggling  to  come  to  my  lips. 

"  Well?  "  queried  Mr.  Betterton  a  second  or  two 
later,  in  a  calm,  dull,  unemotional  Voice.  "  What  is 
thy  news,  friend  Honey  wood  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  plot,"  I  replied,  still  speaking  with  an 
effort,  "  against  His  Majesty  and  the  Countess  of 
Castlemaine." 

"  I  knew  that,"  he  rejoined.  "  'Tis  no  news. 
There  is  more  than  one  plot,  in  fact,  against  the 
King  and  the  Castlemaine.  You  surely  haven't 
come  out  on  this  wet  night,"  he  added  with  a  mirth- 
less laugh,  "  in  order  to  tell  me  that !  " 

After  all  that  I  had  gone  through,  after  my  tussle 
with  my  conscience  and  my  fight  against  myself,  I 
felt  nettled  by  his  flippant  tone. 

"  I  know  not,"  I  said  firmly,  "  if  there  is  more 
than  one  plot  against  His  Majesty  the  King.  But  I 
do  know  that  there  is  one  which  aims  at  striking  at 
his  sacred  Person  to-oight." 


THE  LION'S  WRATH  157 

"  That  also  is  possible,"  he  retorted,  with  still  that 
same  air  of  flippant  Carelessness.  "  But  even  so,  I 
do  not  see,  my  dear  Friend,  what  You  can  do  in 
the  matter." 

"  I  can  denounce  the  Plot,"  I  riposted  warmly, 
"  and  help  to  save  the  life  of  His  Majesty  the 
King." 

"  So  you  can,  my  dear  Honeywood,"  he  said  with 
a  smile,  amused  at  my  vehemence.  "  So  you  can ! 
And  upon  the  King's  gratitude  you  may  lay  the 
foundations  of  your  future  Fortune." 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  a  Fortune,"  I  retorted 
gruffly;  "only  of  Revenge." 

At  this  he  looked  up  suddenly,  leaned  forward 
and  in  the  firelight  tried  to  read  my  face. 

"  Revenge  ?  "  he  queried  curtly.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean,"  I  replied  earnestly,  "  that  the  Plot  of 
which  I  speak  is  real,  tangible  and  damnable.  That 
a  set  of  young  Gallants  have  arranged  between  them- 
selves to  waylay  His  Majesty  the  King  this  night 
in  the  house  of  the  Countess  of  Castlemaine,  to 
kidnap  his  sacred  person,  force  him  to  abdicate,  then 
proclaim  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  King  and  the 
Prince  of  Orange  Regent  of  the  Realm." 

"  How  do  you  know  all  this,  Honeywood?  "  Mr. 
Betterton  rejoined  quietly,  dragged,  meseemed,  out 
of  his  former  Cynicism  by  the  earnestness  of  my 
manner. 

"  I  was  one  of  the  first  to  know  of  it,"  I  replied, 
"  because  on  a  certain  day  in  September  I  was  em- 


158      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

ployed  in  copying  the  Manifesto  wherewith  that 
pack  of  Traitors  hoped  to  rally  distant  Friends 
around  their  Standard.  For  awhile  I  heard  nothing 
more  of  the  Affair,  thought  the  whole  thing  had 
sizzled  out  like  a  fire  devoid  of  fuel;  until  to-day, 
when  the  Conspirators  once  more  met  in  the  house 
of  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs  and  arranged  to  carry 
their  execrable  Project  through  to-night.  Careless 
of  my  presence,  they  planned  and  discussed  their 
Affairs  in  my  hearing.  They  thought,  I  suppose, 
that  I,  like  Mr.  Baggs,  was  one  of  their  Gang." 

Gradually,  while  I  spoke,  I  could  see  the  Dawn 
of  Comprehension  illumining  Mr.  Betterton's  face. 
He  still  was  silent,  and  let  me  speak  on  to  the  end. 
He  was  once  more  gazing  into  the  fire;  his  arms 
were  resting  on  his  knees,  but  his  hands  were  beat- 
ing one  against  the  other,  fist  to  palm,  with  a  violent, 
intermittent  Gesture,  which  proclaimed  his  growing 
Impatience. 

Then  suddenly  he  raised  his  head,  looked  me  once 
more  straight  in  the  eyes,  and  said  slowly,  reiterating 
some  of  my  words : 

"  The  Conspirators  met  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Theo- 
philus Baggs — then — he " 

I  nodded. 

"  My  Lord  Stour,"  I  said,  deliberately  measuring 
my  words,  "  is  up  to  his  neck  in  the  damnable 
Conspiracy." 

Still  his  searching  gaze  was  fixed  upon  me;  and 
now  he  put  out  his  hand  and  clutched  my  forearm. 
But  he  did  not  speak. 

"  I  was  burning  with  rage,"  I  said,  "  at  the  insult 


THE  LION'S  WRATH  159 

put  upon  you  by  my  Lord  Stour  ...  I  longed  to 
be  revenged  ..." 

His  clutch  upon  my  arm  tightened  till  it  felt  like 
a  Vice  of  Steel,  and  his  Voice  came  to  my  ear, 
hoarse  and  almost  unrecognizable. 

"  Honeywood,"  he  murmured,  "  what  do  You 
mean  ?  What  have  You  done  ?  " 

I  tried  to  return  his  gaze,  but  it  seemed  to  sear 
my  very  Soul.  Terror  held  me  now.  I  scarce 
could  speak.  My  voice  came  out  in  a  husky  whisper. 

"  I  had  the  copy  of  the  Manifesto,"  I  said,  "  and 
I  knew  the  names  of  the  Conspirators.  I  wrote 
these  out  and  placed  them  with  the  Manifesto  in 
the  hands  of  my  Lady  Castlemaine." 

Dear  Mistress,  you  know  the  beautiful  picture  by 
the  great  Italian  artist  Michael  Angelo  which  repre- 
sents Jove  hurling  his  thunderbolt  at  some  puny 
human  Creature  who  hath  dared  to  defy  him.  The 
flash  of  Anger  expressed  by  the  Artist  in  the  mighty 
god's  eyes  is  truly  terrifying.  Well!  that  same 
Expression  of  unbounded  and  prodigious  Wrath 
flashed  out  in  one  instant  from  the  great  Actor's 
eyes.  He  jumped  to  his  feet,  towered  above  me  like 
some  Giant  whom  I,  in  my  presumption,  had  dared 
to  defy.  The  flickering  candle  light,  warring  with 
the  fireglow,  and  its  play  of  ruddy  Lights  and  deep 
phantasmagoric  Shadows,  lent  size  and  weirdness 
to  Mr.  Betterton's  figure  and  enhanced  the  dignity 
and  magnitude  of  his  Presence.  His  lips  were 
working,  and  I  could  see  that  he  had  the 
greatest  difficulty  in  forcing  himself  to  speak 
coherently. 


160      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"You  have  done  that?"  he  stammered. 
"You  .  .  .?" 

"  To  avenge  the  deadly  insult "  I  murmured, 

frightened  to  death  now  by  his  violence. 

"  Silence,  you  fool !  "  he  riposted  hoarsely.  "  Is 
it  given  to  the  Mouse  to  avenge  the  hurt  done  to 
the  Lion?" 

I  guessed  how  deeply  he  was  moved  by  these 
Words  which  he  spoke,  more  even  than  by  his  Atti- 
tude. Never,  had  he  been  in  his  normal  frame  of 
mind,  would  he  have  said  them,  knowing  how  their 
cruel  intent  would  hurt  and  wound  me. 

He  was  angry  with  me.  Very  angry.  And  I, 
as  yet,  was  too  ignorant,  too  unsophisticated,  to 
know  in  what  way  I  had  injured  him.  God  knows 
it  had  been  done  unwittingly.  And  I  could  not 
understand  what  went  on  in  that  noble  and  obviously 
tortured  Brain.  I  could  only  sit  there  and  gaze  upon 
him  in  helpless  Bewilderment,  as  he  now  started  to 
pace  up  and  down  the  narrow  room  in  very  truth 
like  a  caged  Lion  that  hath  been  teased  till  it  can 
endure  the  irritation  no  longer. 

"  You  are  angry  with  me  ?  "  I  contrived  to  stam- 
mer at  last;  and  indeed  I  found  much  difficulty  in 
keeping  the  tears  which  were  welling  up  to  mine 
eyes. 

But  my  timid  query  only  appeared  to  have  the 
effect  of  bringing  his  Exasperation  to  its  highest 
pitch.  He  did  in  truth  turn  on  me  as  if  he  were 
ready  to  strike  me,  and  I  slid  down  on  my  Knees, 
for  I  felt  now  really  frightened,  as  his  fine  voice 


THE  LION'S  WRATH  161 

smote  mine  ears  in  thunderous  Accents  of  unbridled 
Wrath. 

"  Angry  ? "    he    exclaimed.      "  Angry    .     .     .  ? 
I   ..." 

Then  he  paused  abruptly,  for  he  had  caught  sight 
of  me,  kneeling  there,  an  humble  and,  I  doubt  not, 
a  pathetic  Figure ;  and,  as  you  know,  Mr.  Betterton's 
heart  is  ever  full  of  Pity  for  the  Lowly  and  the 
Weak.  By  the  flickering  candle  light  I  could  dis- 
tinguish his  noble  Features,  a  moment  ago  almost 
distorted  with  Passion,  but  now,  all  of  a  sudden, 
illumined  by  tender  Sympathy. 

He  pulled  himself  together.  I  almost  could  see 
the  Effort  of  Will  wherewith  he  curbed  that  turbu- 
lent Passion  which  had  threatened  to  overmaster 
him.  He  passed  his  hand  once  or  twice  across  his 
brow,  as  if  he  strove  to  chase  away,  by  sheer  physi- 
cal Force,  the  last  vestige  of  his  own  Anger. 

"  No — no ,"  he  murmured  gently,  bent  down 

to  me  and  helped  me  to  my  feet.  "  No,  my  dear 
Friend ;  I  am  not  angry  with  You  .  .  .  I — I  for- 
got myself  just  now  .  .  .  something  seemed  to 
snap  in  my  Brain  when  you  told  me  that  .  .  . 

When  you  told  me  that "  he  reiterated  slowly; 

then  threw  back  his  head  and  broke  into  a  laugh. 
Oh!  such  a  laugh  as  I  never  wish  to  hear  again. 
It  was  not  only  mirthless,  but  the  Sound  of  it  did 
rend  my  heart  until  the  tears  came  back  to  mine 
eyes ;  but  this  time  through  an  overwhelming  feeling 
of  Pity. 

And  yet  I  did  not  understand.    Neither  his  Anger 


162      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

nor  his  obvious  Despair  were  clear  to  my  Compre- 
hension. I  hoped  he  would  soon  explain,  feeling 
that  if  he  spoke  of  it,  it  would  ease  his  heartache. 
Mine  was  almost  unendurable.  I  felt  that  I  could 
cry  like  a  child,  Remorse  warring  with  Anxiety 
in  my  heart. 

Then  suddenly  Mr.  Betterton  came  close  to  me, 
sat  down  on  the  sofa  beside  me  and  said,  with  a 
Recrudescence  of  his  former  Vehemence : 

"  Friend  Honeywood,  you  must  go  straightway 
back  to  my  Lady  Castlemaine." 

"Yes,"  I  replied  meekly,  for  I  was  ready  to  do 
anything  that  he  desired. 

"  Either  to  my  Lady  Castlemaine,"  he  went  on, 
his  voice  trembling  with  agitation,  "  or  to  her  menial 
first,  but  ultimately  to  my  Lady  Castlemaine.  Go 
on  your  hands  and  knees,  Honeywood;  crawl,  sup- 
plicate, lick  the  dust,  swear  that  the  Conspiracy  had 
no  existence  save  in  your  own  disordered  brain  .  .  . 
that  the  Manifesto  is  a  forgery  .  .  .  the  list  of 
Conspirators  a  fictitious  one  .  .  .  swear  above  all 
that  my  Lord  Stour  had  no  part  in  the  murderous 
Plot " 

I  would,  dear  Lady,  that  mine  was  the  pen  of  a 
ready  Writer,  so  that  I  might  give  you  a  clear  idea 
of  Mr.  Betterton's  strange  aspect  at  that  moment. 
His  face  was  close  to  mine,  yet  he  did  not  seem  like 
himself.  You  know  how  serene  and  calm  is  the 
Glance  of  his  Eyes  as  a  rule.  Well !  just  then  they 
were  strangely  luminous  and  restless;  there  was  a 
glitter  in  them,  a  weird,  pale  Light  that  I  cannot 


THE  LION'S  WRATH  163 

describe,  but  which  struck  me  as  coming  from  a 
Brain  that,  for  the  moment,  was  almost  bereft 
of  Reason. 

That  he  was  not  thinking  coherently  was  obvious 
to  me  from  what  he  said.  I,  who  was  ready  and 
prepared  to  do  anything  that  might  atone  for  the 
Injury,  as  yet  inexplicable,  which  I  had  so  unwit- 
tingly done  to  him,  felt,  nevertheless,  the  entire 
Futility  of  his  Suggestion.  Indeed,  was  it  likely  that 
my  Lady  Castlemaine's  Suspicions,  once  roused, 
could  so  easily  be  allayed?  Whatever  I  told  her 
now,  she  would  of  a  surety  warn  the  King — had 
done  so,  no  doubt,  already.  Measures  would  be 
taken — had  already  been  taken — to  trap  the  in- 
famous Plotters,  to  catch  them  red-handed  in  the 
Act;  if  indeed  they  were  guilty.  Nay!  I  could  not 
very  well  imagine  how  such  great  Personages  would 
act  under  the  Circumstances  that  had  come  about. 
But  this  much  I  did  know;  that  not  one  of  them 
would  be  swayed  by  the  Vagaries  of  a  puny  Clerk, 
who  had  taken  it  upon  himself  to  denounce  a  number 
of  noble  Gentlemen  for  Treason  one  moment  and 
endeavoured  to  exonerate  them  the  next.  So  I 
could  only  shake  my  head  and  murmur : 

"  Alas,  Sir!  all  that  now  would  be  too  late." 

He  looked  at  me  searchingly  for  a  second  or  two. 
The  strange  glitter  died  out  from  his  eyes,  and  he 
gave  a  deep  sigh  of  weariness  and  of  disappoint- 
ment. 

"Aye!"  he  said.  "True!  true!  It  is  all  too 
late!" 


164      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Imagine,  dear  Mistress,  how  puzzled  I  was. 
What  would  You  have  thought  of  it  all,  yourself, 
had  your  sweet  Spirit  been  present  then  at  that  hour, 
when  a  truly  good,  yet  deeply  injured  Man  bared 
his  Soul  before  his  Friend? 

Just  for  a  second  or  two  the  Suspicion  flashed 
through  my  mind  that  Mr.  Betterton  himself  was 
in  some  secret  and  unaccountable  manner  mixed  up 
with  the  abominable  Conspiracy.  But  almost  at 
once  my  saner  Judgment  rejected  this  villainous 
Suggestion;  for  of  a  truth  it  had  no  foundation 
save  in  Foolishness  engendered  by  a  bewildered 
brain.  In  truth,  I  had  never  seen  Mr.  Betterton 
in  the  Company  of  any  of  those  Traitors  whose 
names  were  indelibly  graven  upon  the  tablets  of  my 
Memory,  save  on  that  one  occasion — that  unforget- 
table afternoon  in  September,  when  he  entered  the 
house  of  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs  at  the  hour  when 
Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  had  just  entrusted  his 
Manifesto  to  me.  What  was  said  then  and  what 
happened  afterwards  should,  God  help  me!  have 
convinced  me  that  no  sort  of  intimate  Connection, 
political  or  otherwise,  could  ever  exist  between  my 
Lord  Stour,  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  or  their 
Friends,  and  Mr.  Betterton. 

4 

Even  while  all  these  Thoughts  and  Conjectures 
were  coursing  through  my  brain,  my  innermost  Con- 
sciousness kept  my  attention  fixed  upon  my 
friend. 


THE  LION'S  WRATH  165 

He  had  once  more  resumed  his  restless  pacing  up 
and  down  the  narrow  room.  His  slender  hands 
were  closely  linked  together  behind  his  back,  and 
at  times  he  strode  quite  close  to  me,  so  close  that 
the  skirts  of  his  fashionably  cut  coat  brushed  against 
my  knee.  From  time  to  time  disconnected  Phrases 
came  to  his  lips.  He  was  talking  to  himself,  a  thing 
which  I  had  never  known  him  do  before. 

"  I,  who  wished  to  return  Taunt  for  Taunt  and 
Infamy  for  Infamy !  "  he  said  at  one  time.  And  at 
another :  "  To-day  .  .  .  in  a  few  hours  perhaps, 
that  young  Coxcomb  will  be  in  the  Tower  .  .  . 
and  then  the  Scaffold!" 

I  listened  as  attentively  as  I  could,  without  seem- 
ing to  do  so,  thinking  that,  if  I  only  caught  more 
of  these  confused  Mutterings,  the  Puzzle,  such  as  it 
was,  would  become  more  clear  to  me.  Picture  the 
two  of  us  then,  dear  Mistress,  in  the  semi-darkness, 
with  only  fitful  candle  light  to  bring  into  occasional 
bold  relief  the  fine  Figure  of  the  great  Actor  pacing 
up  and  down  like  a  restless  and  tortured  Beast ;  and 
mine  own  meagre  Form  cowering  in  an  angle  of 
the  sofa,  straining  mine  ears  to  catch  every  syllable 
that  came  from  my  Friend's  lips,  and  mine  eyes  to 
note  every  Change  of  his  Countenance. 

"  She  will  think  'twas  I  who  spied  upon  him,"  I 
heard  him  say  quite  distinctly  through  his  clenched 
teeth.  "  I  who  betrayed  him,  her  Friends,  her 
Brother." 

"  He  will  die  a  Martyr  to  the  cause  she  loves," 
he  murmured  a  few  moments  later.  "  A  Hero  to 


his  friends — to  her  a  demi-god  whose  Memory  she 
will  worship." 

Then  he  paused,  and  added  in  a  loud  and  firm 
voice,  apostrophizing,  God  knows  what  Spirits  of 
Hate  and  of  Vengeance  whom  he  had  summoned : 

"  And  that  is  to  be  my  Revenge  for  the  deadliest 
Insult  Man  ever  put  upon  Man !  .  .  .  Ha !  ha !  ha ! 
ha !  "  he  laughed,  with  weird  Incontinence.  "  God 
above  us,  save  me  from  my  Friends  and  let  me  deal 
alone  with  mine  Enemies !  " 

He  fell  back  into  the  nearest  chair  and,  resting 
his  elbows  on  his  knees,  he  pressed  his  forehead 
against  his  clenched  fists.  I  stared  at  him,  mute, 
dumbfounded.  For  now  I  understood.  I  knew 
what  I  had  done,  knew  what  he  desired,  what  he 
had  striven  for  and  planned  all  these  past  weary 
weeks.  His  Hopes,  his  Desires,  I  had  frustrated. 
I,  his  Friend,  who  would  have  given  my  Life  for 
his  welfare ! 

I  had  been  heart-broken  before.  I  was  doubly 
so  now.  I  slid  from  the  sofa  once  more  on  my 
knees  and,  not  daring  to  touch  him,  I  just  remained 
there,  sobbing  and  moaning  in  helpless  Dejection 
and  Remorse. 

"  What  can  I  do? — what  can  I  do?  " 

He  looked  at  me,  obviously  dazed,  had  apparently 
become  quite  oblivious  of  my  presence.  Once  more 
that  look  of  tender  Commiseration  came  into  his 
eyes,  and  he  said  with  a  gently  ironical  smile : 

"  You  ?  Poor  little,  feeble  Mouse,  who  has 
gnawed  at  the  Giant's  prey — what  can  you  do? 


THE  LION'S  WRATH  167 

,.  .  .  Why,  nothing.  Go  back  to  our  mutual 
Friend,  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs,  and  tell  him  to  make 
his  way — and  quickly  too — to  some  obscure  corner 
of  the  Country,  for  he  also  is  up  to  the  neck  in  that 
damnable  Conspiracy." 

This  set  my  mind  to  a  fresh  train  of  thought. 

"  Shall  I  to  my  Lord  Stour  by  the  same  token?  " 
I  asked  eagerly. 

"  To  my  Lord  Stour  ?  "  he  queried,  with  a  puzzled 
frown.  "What  for?" 

"  To  warn  him,"  I  replied.  "  Give  him  a  chance 
of  escape.  I  could  tell  him  you  sent  me,"  I  added 
tentatively. 

He  laughed. 

"  No,  no,  my  Friend,"  he  said  drily.  "  We'll  not 
quite  go  to  that  length.  Give  him  a  chance  of 
Escape  ? "  he  reiterated.  "  And  tell  him  I  sent 
You  ?  No,  no !  He  would  only  look  upon  my  sup- 
posed Magnanimity  as  a  sign  of  cringing  Humility, 
Obsequiousness  and  Terror  of  further  Reprisals. 
No,  no,  my  Friend;  I'll  not  give  the  gay  young 
Spark  another  chance  of  insulting  me.  .  .  .  But 
let  me  think  ...  let  me  think  .  .  .  Oh,  if  only 
I  had  a  few  days  before  me,  instead  of  a  mere  few 
hours!  .  .  .  And  if  only  my  Lady  Castle- 
maine  ..." 

He  paused,  and  I  broke  in  on  the  impulse  of  the 
moment. 

"  Oh,  Sir !  hath  not  the  Countess  of  Castlemaine 
vowed  often  of  late  that  she  would  grant  any  Favour 
that  the  great  Mr.  Betterton  would  ask  of  her?" 


168      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

No  sooner  were  the  words  out  of  my  mouth  than 
I  regretted  them.  It  must  have  been  Instinct,  for 
they  seemed  innocent  enough  at  the  time.  My  only 
thought  in  uttering  them  was  to  suggest  that  at  Mr. 
Betterton's  request  the  Traitors  would  be  pardoned. 
My  Lady  Castlemaine  in  those  days  held  the  King 
wholly  under  her  Domination.  And  I  still  believed 
that  my  Friend  desired  nothing  so  much  at  this 
moment  than  that  my  Lord  Stour  should  not  die  a 
Hero's  death — a  Martyr  to  the  cause  which  the 
beautiful  Lady  Barbara  had  at  heart. 

But  since  that  hour,  whenever  I  have  looked 
back  upon  the  Sequence  of  Events  which  followed 
on  my  impulsive  Utterance,  I  could  not  help  but 
think  that  Destiny  had  put  the  words  into  my  mouth. 
She  had  need  of  me  as  her  tool.  What  had  to  be, 
had  to  be.  You,  dear  Mistress,  can  now  judge 
whether  Mr.  Betterton  is  still  worthy  of  your  Love, 
whether  he  is  still  worthy  to  be  taken  back  into  your 
heart  For  verily  my  words  did  make  the  turning 
point  in  the  workings  of  his  Soul.  But  I  should 
never  have  dared  to  tell  you  all  that  happened,  face 
to  face,  and  I  desired  to  speak  of  the  matter  im- 
partially. Therefore  I  chose  the  medium  of  a  pen, 
so  that  I  might  make  You  understand  and,  under- 
standing, be  ready  to  forgive. 


CHAPTER  IX 
A  LAST  CHANCE 


Of  course,  what  happened  subsequently,  I  can 
only  tell  for  the  most  part  from  what  Mr.  Betterton 
told  me  himself,  and  also  from  one  or  two  facts 
revealed  to  me  by  Mistress  Floid. 

At  the  moment,  Mr.  Betterton  commended  me 
for  my  Suggestion,  rested  his  hand  with  all  his 
former  affectionate  Manner  upon  my  shoulder,  and 
said  quite  simply : 

"  I  thank  you,  friend,  for  reminding  me  of  this. 
My  Lady  Castlemaine  did  indeed  last  night  intimate 
to  me  that  she  felt  ready  to  grant  any  Favour  I 
might  ask  of  her.  Well !  I  will  not  put  her  Mag- 
nanimity to  an  over  severe  test.  Come  with  me, 
friend  Honeywood.  We'll  to  her  Ladyship.  There 
will  be  plenty  of  time  after  that  to  go  and  warn  that 
worthy  Mr.  Baggs  and  my  equally  worthy  Sister. 
I  should  not  like  them  to  end  their  days  upon  the 
Scaffold.  So  heroic  an  ending  doth  not  seem  suit- 
able to  their  drabby  Existence,  and  would  war  with 
all  preconceived  Dramatic  Values." 

.  He  then  called  to  his  man  and  ordered  a  couple 
of  linkmen  to  be  in  readiness  to  guide  us  through  the 

169 


170      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Streets,  as  these  were  far  from  safe  for  peaceful 
Pedestrians  after  dark !  Then  he  demanded  his  hat 
and  cloak,  and  a  minute  or  so  later  he  bade  me 
follow  him,  and  together  we  went  out  of  the  house. 


It  was  now  raining  heavily,  and  we  wrapped  our 
Cloaks  tightly  round  our  Shoulders,  speeding  along 
as  fast  as  we  could.  The  streets  were  almost  de- 
serted and  as  dreary  as  London  streets  alone  can  be 
on  a  November  evening.  Only  from  the  closed 
Windows  of  an  occasional  Tavern  or  Coffee-house 
did  a  few  rays  of  bright  light  fall  across  the  road, 
throwing  a  vivid  bar  of  brilliance  athwart  our  way, 
and  turning  the  hundreds  of  Puddles  into  shining 
reflections,  like  so  many  glimmering  Stars. 

For  the  rest,  we  were  dependent  on  the  linkmen, 
who  walked  ahead  of  us,  swinging  their  Lanterns 
for  Guidance  on  our  path.  Being  somewhat  timid 
by  nature,  I  had  noted  with  satisfaction  that  they 
both  carried  stout  Cudgels,  for  of  a  truth  there  were 
many  Marauders  about  on  dark  nights  such  as  this, 
Footpads  and  Highway  Robbers,  not  to  mention 
those  bands  of  young  Rakes,  who  found  pleasure  in 
"  scouring  "  the  streets  o'  nights  and  molesting  the 
belated  Wayfarer. 

Mr.  Betterton,  too,  carried  a  weighted  stick,  and 
he  was  a  Man  whom  clean,  sturdy  living  had  ren- 
dered both  athletic  and  powerful.  We  were  soon, 
both  of  us,  wet  to  the  Skin,  but  Mr.  Betterton  ap- 
peared quite  oblivious  of  discomfort.  He  walked 


A  LAST  CHANCE  171 

with  a  quick  step,  and  I  perforce  had  to  keep  up 
with  him  as  best  I  could. 

He  had  told  me,  before  we  started  out,  that  he 
was  bent  for  my  Lady  Castlemaine's  House,  the 
rear  of  which  looks  down  upon  the  Gardens  of 
White  Hall.  I  knew  the  way  thither  just  as  well  as 
he  did.  Great  was  my  astonishment,  therefore, 
when  having  reached  the  bottom  of  King  Street, 
when  we  should  have  turned  our  steps  northwards, 
Mr.  Betterton  suddenly  ordered  the  linkmen  to  pro- 
ceed through  Palace  Yard  in  the  direction  of  West- 
minster Stairs. 

I  thought  that  he  was  suffering  from  a  fit  of 
absent-mindedness,  which  was  easily  understandable 
on  account  of  his  agitated  Frame  of  Mind ;  and  pres- 
ently I  called  his  attention  to  his  mistake.  He  paid 
no  heed  to  me,  however,  and  continued  to  walk  on 
until  we  were  some  way  up  Canon's  Row. 

Here  he  called  to  his  linkmen  to  halt,  and  himself 
paused ;  then  caught  hold  of  my  cloak,  and  dragged 
me  under  the  shelter  of  a  great  gateway  belonging  to 
one  of  those  noble  Mansions  which  front  the  River. 
And  he  said  to  me,  in  a  strange  and  peremptory 
Voice,  hardly  raised  above  a  Whisper : 

"  Do  You  know  where  we  are,  Honeywood  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  not  a  little  surprised  at  the  ques- 
tion. "  We  are  at  the  South  End  of  Canon's  Row. 
I  know  this  part  very  well,  having  often " 

"  Very  well,  then,"  he  broke  in,  still  in  the  same 
imperious  Manner.  "  You  know  that  we  are  under 
the  gateway  belonging  to  the  Town  Mansion  of  the 


172      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Earl  of  Stour,  and  that  the  house  is  some  twenty 
yards  up  the  fore-court." 

"  I  know  the  house,"  I  replied,  "  now  you  men- 
tion it." 

"  Then  you  will  go  to  my  Lord  Stour  now, 
Honeywood,"  my  Friend  went  on. 

"To  warn  him?"  I  queried  eagerly,  for  of  a 
truth  I  was  struck  with  Admiration  at  this  excess 
of  Magnanimity  on  the  part  of  an  injured  Man. 

"  No,"  Mr.  Betterton  replied  curtly.  "  You  will 
go  to  my  Lord  Stour  as  my  Friend  and  Inter- 
mediary. You  will  tell  him  that  I  sent  You,  be- 
cause I  desire  to  know  if  he  hath  changed  his  mind, 
and  if  he  is  ready  to  give  me  Satisfaction  for  the 
Insult,  which  he  put  upon  me  nigh  on  two  months 
ago." 

I  could  not  restrain  a  gasp  of  surprise. 

"  But "  I  stammered. 

"You  are  not  going  to  play  me  false,  Honey- 
wood,"  he  said  simply. 

That  I  swore  I  would  not  do.  Indeed,  he  knew 
well  enough  that  if  he  commanded  me  to  go  to 
the  outermost  ends  of  the  Earth  on  his  errand,  or 
to  hold  parley  with  the  Devil  on  his  behalf,  I 
would  have  been  eager  and  ready  to  do  it. 

But  I  must  confess  that  at  this  moment  I  would 
sooner  have  parleyed  with  the  Devil  than  with  the 
Earl  of  Stour.  The  Man  whom  I  had  denounced, 
You  understand.  I  felt  that  the  shadow  of  Death 
— conjured  by  me,  menacing  and  unevasive — would 
perhaps  lie  'twixt  him  and  me  whilst  I  spoke  with 


A  LAST  CHANCE  173 

him.  Yet  how  could  I  demur  when  my  Friend  be- 
sought me  ? — my  Friend,  who  was  gravely  troubled 
because  of  me. 

I  promised  that  I  would  do  as  he  wished.  Where- 
upon he  gave  me  full  instructions.  Never  had 
so  strange  a  task  been  put  upon  a  simple-minded 
Plebeian :  for  these  were  matters  pertaining  to 
Gentlemen.  I  knew  less  than  nothing  of  Duels, 
Affairs  of  Honour,  or  such  like;  yet  here  was  I 
— John  Honeywood,  an  humble  Attorney's  Clerk — 
sent  to  convey  a  challenge  for  a  Duel  to  a  high  and 
noble  Lord,  in  the  manner  most  approved  by 
Tradition. 

I  was  ready  to  swoon  with  Fright;  for,  in  truth, 
I  am  naught  but  a  timid  Rustic.  In  spite  of  the  cold 
and  the  rain  I  felt  a  rush  of  hot  blood  coursing  up 
and  down  my  Spine.  But  I  learned  my  Lesson  from 
end  to  end,  and  having  mastered  it,  I  did  not  waver. 

Leaving  Mr.  Betterton  under  the  shelter  of  the 
gateway,  I  boldly  crossed  the  fore-court  and 
mounted  the  couple  of  steps  which  led  up  to  the 
front  door  of  the  Mansion.  The  fore-court  and  the 
front  of  the  House  were  very  dark,  and  I  was  not 
a  little  afraid  of  Night  Prowlers,  who,  they  do  say, 
haunt  the  immediate  Purlieus  of  these  stately 
Abodes  of  the  Nobility,  ready  to  fall  upon  any  be- 
lated Visitor  who  might  be  foolish  enough  to  ven- 
ture out  alone. 

Indeed,  everything  around  me  was  so  still  and 
seemed  so  desolate  that  an  Access  of  Fear  seized 
me,  whilst  I  vainly  tried  to  grope  for  the  bell-handle 


174      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

in  the  Darkness.  I  very  nearly  gave  way  to  my 
Cowardice  then  and  there,  and  would  have  run  back 
to  my  Friend  or  called  out  to  the  Linkmen  for  their 
Company,  only  that  at  the  very  moment  my  Hand 
came  in  contact  with  the  iron  bell  pull,  and  fastened 
itself  instinctively  upon  it. 

Whereupon  the  clang  of  the  Bell  broke  the 
solemn  Silence  which  reigned  around. 

3 

I  had  grave  Difficulty  in  obtaining  access  to  my 
Lord  Stour,  his  Servant  telling  me  in  the  first  in- 
stance that  his  Lordship  was  not  at  home,  and  in 
the  second  that  he  was  in  any  event  too  busy  to 
receive  Visitors  at  this  hour.  But  I  have  oft  been 
told  that  I  possess  the  Obstinacy  of  the  Weak,  and 
I  was  determined  that,  having  come  so  far,  I  would 
not  return  to  Mr.  Betterton  without  having  accom- 
plished mine  Errand.  So,  seeing  that  the  Servant, 
with  the  Officiousness  and  Insolence  of  his  kind,  was 
about  to  slam  the  door  in  my  face,  an  Inspiration 
seized  me,  and  taking  on  a  haughty  Air,  I  stepped 
boldly  across  the  Threshold  and  then  commanded 
the  Menial  to  go  to  his  Lordship  at  once  and  an- 
nounce the  visit  of  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs'  Clerk  on 
a  matter  of  the  utmost  Urgency. 

I  suppose  that  now  I  looked  both  determined  and 
fierce,  and  after  a  good  deal  of  hem-ming  and  haw- 
ing, the  Varlet  apparently  felt  that  non-compliance 
with  my  Desire  might  bring  contumely  upon  him- 
self; so  he  went,  leaving  me  most  unceremoniously 


A  LAST  CHANCE  175 

to  cool  my  heels  in  the  Hall,  and  returned  but  a  very 
few  minutes  later  looking  distinctly  crestfallen  and 
not  a  little  astonished. 

His  Lordship  would  see  me  at  once,  he  announced. 
Then  bade  me  follow  him  up  the  stairs. 

To  say  that  my  Heart  was  beating  furiously 
within  my  Breast  would  be  but  a  bald  Statement  of 
my  Frame  of  Mind.  I  fully  expected  that  his  Lord- 
ship, directly  he  knew  that  it  was  not  Mr.  Baggs 
who  had  sent  me,  would  have  me  ignominiously 
turned  out  of  the  House.  However,  I  was  not  given 
much  time  to  indulge  in  my  Conjectures  and  my 
Fears,  for  presently  I  was  ushered  into  a  large  room, 
dimly  lighted  by  a  couple  of  wax  candles  and  the 
Walls  of  which,  I  noticed,  were  entirely  lined  with 
Books. 

After  the  Menial  had  closed  the  door  behind  me, 
a  Voice  bade  me  curtly  to  come  forward  and  to  state 
mine  Errand.  Then  I  saw  that  my  Lord  Stour  was 
not  alone.  He  was  sitting  in  a  chair  in  front  of  the 
fire,  and  opposite  to  him  sat  the  beautiful  Lady 
Barbara,  whilst  standing  in  front  of  the  hearth,  with 
legs  apart  and  hands  thrust  in  the  pockets  of  his 
breeches,  was  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode. 

What  Courage  was  left  in  me  now  went  down 
into  my  shoes.  I  felt  like  a  Man  faced  with  three 
Enemies  where  he  had  only  expected  to  meet  one. 
My  Throat  felt  very  dry  and  my  Tongue  seemed  to 
cleave  to  my  Palate.  Nevertheless,  in  response  to  a 
reiterated  curt  Command  to  state  mine  Errand,  I 
did  so  unfalteringly. 


176      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  Mr.  Thomas  Betterton,  one  of  His  Majesty's 
Well-Beloved  Servants,"  I  said,  "  hath  sent  me  to 
his  Lordship  the  Earl  of  Stour." 

My  Words  were  greeted  with  an  angry  Oath  from 
Lord  Douglas,  an  ironical  Laugh  from  my  Lord 
Stour  and  a  strange  little  Gasp,  half  of  Terror, 
wholly  of  Surprise,  from  the  Lady  Barbara. 

"  Methought  You  came  from  Mr.  Baggs,"  my 
Lord  Stour  remarked  haughtily.  "  So  at  least  You 
gave  my  Servant  to  understand,  else  You  would 
not  have  been  admitted." 

"  Your  Lordship's  Servant  misunderstood  me," 
I  rejoined  quite  quietly.  "  I  gave  my  name  as  Clerk 
to  Mr.  Baggs;  but  mine  Errand  concerns  Mr. 
Thomas  Betterton,  and  he  honours  me  with  his 
Friendship." 

"  And  as  Mr.  Betterton's  Affairs  do  not  concern 

me  in  any  way "  his  Lordship  began  coldly,  and 

would  no  doubt  have  dismissed  me  then  and  there, 
but  that  the  Lady  Barbara  interposed  gently  yet  with 
great  Firmness. 

"  I  pray  You,  my  Lord,"  she  said,  "  do  not  be 
over-hasty.  We  might  at  least  listen  to  what  Mr. 
Betterton's  Messenger  has  to  say." 

"  Yes,"  added  Lord  Douglas  in  his  habitual 
brusque  Manner.  "  Let  us  hear  what  the  Fellow 
wants." 

This  was  not  encouraging,  you  will  admit;  but, 
like  many  over-timid  People,  there  are  times  when 
I  am  conscious  of  unwonted  Calm  and  Determina- 
tion. So  even  now  I  confronted  these  two  super- 


A  LAST  CHANCE  177 

cilious  Gentlemen  with  as  much  Dignity  as  I  could 
command,  and  said,  addressing  myself  directly  to 
the  Earl  of  Stour : 

"  Mr.  Betterton  hath  sent  me  to  You,  my  Lord, 
to  demand  Satisfaction  for  the  abominable  Outrage 
which  You  perpetrated  upon  his  Person  nigh  on  two 
months  ago." 

Lord  Stour  shrugged  his  Shoulders  and  riposted 
coldly : 

"  That  tune  is  stale,  my  Man.  Mr. — er — Betterton 
has  had  mine  Answer." 

"  Since  then,  my  Lord,"  I  insisted  firmly,  "  Time 
hath  no  doubt  brought  saner  Reflection.  Mr.  Bet- 
terton's  Fame  and  his  Genius  have  raised  him  to  a 
level  far  above  that  conferred  by  mere  Birth." 

"  Have  made  a  Gentleman  of  him,  You  mean?  " 
Lord  Stour  rejoined  with  a  sarcastic  curl  of  the  lip. 

"  More  noble  far  than  any  Gentleman  in  the 
Land,"  I  retorted  proudly. 

He  gave  a  harsh  laugh. 

"  In  that  case,  my  Man,"  he  said  tartly,  "  you 
can  inform  your  worthy  Friend  that  two  hundred 
years  hence  my  Descendants  might  fight  him  on  a 
comparatively  equal  Footing.  But  until  then,"  he 
added  firmly  and  conclusively,  "  I  must  repeat  for 
the  last  time  what  I  have  already  told  Mr. — er — 
Betterton:  the  Earl  of  Stour  cannot  cross  Swords 
with  a  Mountebank." 

"  Take  care,  my  Lord,  take  care " 

The  Exclamation  had  burst  quite  involuntarily 
from  my  Lips.  The  next  moment  I  felt  ashamed 


178     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

to  have  uttered  it,  for  my  Lord  Stour  looked  me  up 
and  down  as  he  would  an  importunate  Menial,  and 
Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  strode  towards  me  and 
pointed  to  the  door. 

"  Get  out !  "  he  commanded  curtly. 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  done — nothing 
more  to  be  said,  if  I  desired  to  retain  one  last 
Shred  of  Dignity  both  for  myself  and  for  the  great 
Artist  who — in  my  Person  this  time — had  once 
again  been  so  profoundly  humiliated. 

My  wet  cloak  I  had  left  down  in  the  Hall,  but  I 
still  held  my  hat  in  my  hands.  I  now  bowed  with 
as  much  Grace  as  I  could  muster.  Lord  Douglas 
still  pointed  a  peremptory  finger  towards  the  door, 
making  it  clear  that  I  was  not  going  of  mine  own 
Accord,  like  the  Intermediary  of  any  Gentleman 
might  be,  but  that  I  was  being  kicked  out  like  some 
insolent  Varlet. 

Oh !  the  shame  of  it !    The  shame ! 

My  ears  were  tingling,  my  temples  throbbing.  A 
crimson  Veil,  thrust  before  mine  eyes  by  invisible 
Hands,  caused  my  footsteps  to  falter.  Oh !  if  only 
I  had  had  the  strength,  I  should  even  then  have 
turned  upon  those  aristocratic  Miscreants  and,  with 
my  hands  upon  their  throats,  have  forced  them  to 
eat  their  impious  Words. 

But  even  as  I  crossed  the  Threshold  of  that  Room 
where  I  had  suffered  such  bitter  Humiliation,  I 
heard  loud  and  mocking  Laughter  behind  me;  and 
words  such  as :  "  Insolence !  "  "  Mountebank !  " 
"  Rogue !  "  and  "  Vagabond !  "  still  reached  my  ears. 


A  LAST  CHANCE  179 

I  suppose  that  the  door  did  not  close  quite  fully 
behind  me,  for  even  as  I  crossed  the  landing  me- 
seemed  that  I  heard  the  Lady  Barbara's  voice  raised 
in  a  kind  of  terrified  Appeal. 

"  Would  to  God,  my  dear  Lord,"  she  appeared  to 
plead  with  passionate  Earnestness,  "  You  had  not 
incurred  the  Enmity  of  that  Man.  Ever  since  that 
awful  day  I  have  felt  as  if  You  were  encompassed 
by  Spirits  of  Hate  and  of  Vengeance  which  threaten 
our  Happiness." 

Her  Voice  broke  in  a  sob.  And,  indeed,  I  found 
it  in  my  heart  to  pity  her,  for  she  seemed  deeply 
grieved.  I  still  could  hear  him — her  Lover  and 
mine  Enemy,  since  he  was  the  Enemy  of  my  Friend 
— trying  to  laugh  away  her  fears. 

"  Nay,  sweetheart,"  he  was  saying  tenderly.  "  A 
Man  like  that  can  do  us  no  harm.  Mine  own  Con- 
science is  clear — my  Life  honourable — and  to-night 
will  see  the  triumph  of  your  Cause,  to  which  I  have 
given  willing  help.  That  Man's  Malice  cannot  touch 
me,  any  more  than  the  snarling  of  a  toothless  cur. 
So  do  not  waste  these  precious  moments,  my  Be- 
loved, by  thinking  of  him." 

After  which  the  door  behind  me  was  closed  to, 
and  I  heard  nothing  more.  I  hurried  down  the 
Stairs,  snatched  up  my  cloak  and  hurried  out  of  the 
House. 

Never  should  I  have  believed  that  a  human  Heart 
could  contain  so  much  Hatred  as  mine  held  for  my 
Lord  Stour  at  that  moment. 


180     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

4 

I  found  Mr.  Betterton  waiting  for  me  under  the 
Gateway  where  I  had  left  him  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
ago. 

As  soon  as  he  heard  my  footsteps  upon  the  un- 
even pavement  of  the  fore-court,  he  came  forward 
to  meet  me,  took  hold  of  my  cloak  and  dragged  me 
back  into  shelter. 

He  only  said  the  one  word:  "Well?"  but  it  is 
not  in  my  power,  dear  Mistress,  to  render  adequately 
all  that  there  was  of  Anxiety,  Impatience  and  of 
Passion  in  that  one  brief  Query. 

I  suppose  that  I  hesitated.  Of  a  truth  the  Mes- 
sage which  I  was  bringing  was  choking  me.  And  he 
who  is  so  sensitive,  so  understanding,  learned  every- 
thing, and  at  once,  from  my  Silence. 

"  He  hath  refused?  "  he  said  simply. 

I  nodded. 

"He  will  not  fight  me?" 

And  my  Silence  gave  reply.  A  curious,  hoarse 
Cry,  like  that  of  a  wounded  Animal,  escaped  his 
Throat  and  for  a  moment  we  were  both  silent — so 
silent  that  the  patter  of  the  rain  appeared  like  some 
thunderous  Noise:  and  the  divers  sounds  of  the 
great  City  wrapped  in  the  Cloak  of  Evening  came 
to  us  with  sharp  and  eerie  Distinctness.  Far  away, 
a  dog  barked;  some  belated  Chairman  called: 
"  Make  room,  there ! " ;  a  couple  of  Watchmen 
passed  close  by,  clinking  their  halberts  against  the 
ground,  and  from  one  of  the  noble  Mansions  nigh 


A  LAST  CHANCE  181 

to  us  there  came  the  sound  of  Revelry  and  of 
Laughter. 

I  felt  like  in  a  Dream,  conscious  only  that  the 
Finger  of  Destiny  was  pointing  to  the  Dial  of  a 
Clock,  and  that  I  was  set  here  to  count  the  Seconds 
and  the  Minutes  until  that  ghostly  Finger  had  com- 
pleted its  task  and  registered  the  final  Hour  when 
the  Decrees  of  God  would  inevitably  be  fulfilled. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  HOUR 


A  quarter  of  an  hour — perhaps  less — later,  we 
were  speeding  back,  Mr.  Betterton  and  I,  down 
Canon's  Row  on  our  way  to  Westminster  Stairs, 
intending  to  take  boat  for  the  City. 

In  the  terrible  mental  upheaval  which  had  fol- 
lowed on  the  renewed  Outrage  that  had  been  put 
upon  my  beloved  Friend,  I  had  well-nigh  forgotten 
that  secret  conspiracy  which  was  even  now  threaten- 
ing the  stability  of  our  Country,  and  in  which  my 
former  Employer  and  his  Spouse  were  so  deeply 
involved. 

The  striking  of  Church  Bells  far  and  near,  chim- 
ing the  hour  of  eight,  recalled  me  to  the  danger 
which  threatened  Mr.  Baggs  along  with  his  more 
aristocratic  co-traitors.  And,  strangely  enough,  Mr. 
Betterton  thought  of  this  at  the  very  same  time. 
He  had  been  sunk  in  moody  Reverie  ever  since  my 
Silence  had  told  him  the  grim  tale  of  my  unsuc- 
cessful Embassy  to  the  Earl  of  Stour,  and  through 
the  darkness  it  was  impossible  even  for  my  devoted 
eyes  to  watch  the  Play  of  Emotions  upon  his  tell- 
tale face,  or  to  read  in  his  eyes  the  dark  thoughts 
which  I  knew  must  be  coursing  through  his  Brain. 

182 


THE  HOUR  183 

In  myself,  I  could  not  help  but  be  satisfied  at  the 
turn  of  Events.  The  Conspirators,  denounced  by 
me  to  the  Countess  of  Castlemaine,  would  of  a  cer- 
tainty meet  the  Punishment  which  they  so  fully  de- 
served. Lord  Stour  was  one  of  them,  so  was  Lord 
Douglas  Wychwoode.  The  Scaffold,  or  at  least, 
Banishment,  would  be  their  lot,  and  how  could  I 
grieve — I,  who  hated  them  so! — that  the  Earth 
would  presently  be  rid  of  two  arrogant  and  super- 
cilious Coxcombs,  Traitors  to  their  King,  vain- 
glorious and  self-seeking.  True,  the  Lady  Barbara 
would  weep.  But  when  I  remembered  the  many 
bitter  tears  which  you,  dear  Mistress,  have  shed 
these  past  months  because  she  had  enchained 
the  fancy  of  the  Man  whom  you  loved,  then  had 
scorned  his  Ardour  and  left  him  a  Prey  to  Humilia- 
tion and  Shame  at  the  hands  of  Men  unworthy  to 
lick  the  dust  at  his  feet;  when  I  remembered  all 
that,  I  could  find  no  Pity  in  my  heart  for  the  Lady 
Barbara,  but  rather  a  Hope  that  one  so  exquisitely 
fair  would  pass  through  Sorrow  and  Adversity  the 
purer  and  softer  for  the  Ordeal. 

True  again,  that  for  some  reason  still  unexplained 
Mr.  Betterton  appeared  to  desire  with  an  almost  pas- 
sionate intensity  that  his  successful  Rival  should 
escape  the  fate  of  his  fellow-Conspirators.  Such 
Magnanimity  was  beyond  my  Comprehension,  and 
I  felt  that  the  Sentiment  which  engendered  it  could 
not  be  a  lasting  one.  Mr.  Betterton  was  for  the 
moment  angry  with  me — very  angry — for  what  I 
had  done;  but  his  Anger  I  knew  would  soon  melt 


184      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

in  the  Warmth  of  his  own  kindly  Heart.  He  would 
forgive  me,  and  anon  forget  the  insolent  Enemy 
after  the  latter  had  expiated  his  Treachery  and  his 
Arrogance  upon  the  Scaffold.  The  whole  of  this 
hideous  past  Episode  would  then  become  a  mere 
Memory,  like  unto  a  nightmare  which  the  healthful 
freshness  of  the  newly-born  Day  so  quickly  dispels. 


So  on  the  whole  it  was  with  a  lightened  heart 
that  I  stepped  into  the  boat  in  the  wake  of  Mr. 
Betterton.  I  thanked  the  Lord  that  the  Rain  had 
ceased  for  the  moment,  for  truly  I  was  chilled  to 
the  Marrow  and  could  not  have  borne  another 
wetting. 

Every  Angle  and  Stone  and  Stair  and  Landing 
Stage  along  the  Embankment  was  of  course  familiar 
to  me;  and  I  could  not  help  falling  into  a  Reverie 
at  sight  of  those  great  houses  which  were  the  City 
homes  of  some  of  the  noblest  Families  in  the  Land. 
How  many  of  these  stately  walls,  thought  I,  shel- 
tered a  nest  of  Conspirators  as  vile  and  as  disloyal 
as  were  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode  and  his  friends  ? 
Suffolk  House  and  Yorke  House,  Salisbury  House 
and  Worster  House,  to  mention  but  a  few.  How 
did  the  mere  honest  Citizen  know  what  went  on 
behind  their  Portals,  what  deadly  secrets  were  whis- 
pered within  their  doors  ? 

I  had  been  taught  all  my  life  to  respect  those  who 
are  above  me  in  Station  and  to  reverence  our  titled 
Nobility;  but  truly  my  short  Experience  of  these 


THE  HOUR  185 

high-born  Sparks  was  not  calculated  to  enhance  my 
Respect  for  their  Integrity  or  my  Admiration  for 
their  Intellect.  Some  older  Gentlemen  there  were, 
such  as  the  Lord  Chancellor  himself,  who  were 
worthy  of  Everybody's  regard;  but  I  must  confess 
that  the  Behaviour  of  the  younger  Fops  was  oft 
blameworthy. 

I  might  even  instance  our  Experience  this  dark 
night  after  we  had  landed  at  the  Temple  Stairs,  and 
were  hurrying  along  our  way  up  Middle  Temple 
Lane  in  the  wake  of  our  linkmen.  We  were  speed- 
ing on,  treading  carefully  so  as  to  avoid  as  much 
as  was  possible  the  mud  which  lay  ankle-deep  in 
the  Lane,  when  we  suddenly  spied  ahead  of  us  a 
party  of  "  Scourers  " — young  Gentlemen  of  high 
Rank,  very  much  the  worse  for  drink,  who,  being 
at  their  wits'  end  to  know  how  to  spend  their  eve- 
nings, did  it  in  prowling  about  the  Streets,  insulting 
or  maltreating  peaceable  Passers-by,  molesting 
Women,  breaking  Tavern  windows,  stealing  Sign- 
boards and  otherwise  rendering  themselves  noxious 
to  honest  Citizens,  and  helping  to  make  the  Streets 
of  our  great  City  an  object  of  terror  by  night,  in 
emulation  of  highway  Robbers  and  other  foul 
Marauders. 

No  doubt  Mr.  Betterton  and  I  would — despite  the 
aid  of  our  two  linkmen  and  of  their  stout  Cudgels 
— have  fallen  a  victim  to  these  odious  Miscreants, 
and  the  great  Actor  would  of  a  surety  have  been 
very  rudely  treated,  since  he  had  so  often  denounced 
these  Mai-practices  from  the  Stage  and  held  up  to 


186     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

public  Ridicule  not  only  the  young  Rakes  who  took 
part  in  the  riotous  Orgies,  but  also  our  Nightwatch- 
men,  who  were  too  stupid  or  too  cowardly  to  cope 
with  them.  But,  knowing  our  danger,  we  avoided 
it,  and  hearing  the  young  Mohocks  coming  our  way 
we  slipped  up  Hare  Alley  and  bided  our  time  until 
the  noise  of  Revels  and  Riotings  were  well  be- 
hind us. 

I  heard  afterwards  that  those  Abominable 
Debauchees — who  surely  should  have  known  better, 
seeing  that  they  were  all  Scions  of  great  and  noble 
Families — had  indeed  "  scoured  "  that  night  with 
some  purpose.  They  broke  into  Simond's  Inn  in 
Fleet  Street,  smashed  every  Piece  of  Crockery  they 
could  find  there,  assaulted  the  Landlord,  beat  the 
Customers  about,  broke  open  the  money-box,  stole 
some  five  pounds  in  hard  cash  and  insulted  the 
waiting-maids.  Finally  they  set  a  seal  to  their 
Revels  by  falling  on  the  Nightwatchmen  who  had 
come  to  disperse  them,  beating  them  with  their  own 
halberts  and  with  sticks,  and  wounding  one  so 
severely  that  he  ultimately  died  in  Hospital,  while 
the  Miscreants  themselves  got  off  scot-free. 

Truly  a  terrible  state  of  Affairs  in  such  a  noble 
City  as  London ! 

3 

As  for  Mr.  Betterton  and  myself,  we  reached  the 
corner  of  Chancery  Lane  without  serious  Adven- 
ture. As  we  neared  the  house  of  Mr.  Theophilus 
Baggs,  however,  I  felt  my  Courage  oozing  down 


THE  HOUR  187 

into  my  shoes.  Truly  I  could  not  then  have  faced 
my  former  Employer,  whom  I  had  just  betrayed, 
and  the  mean  side  of  my  Action  in  the  Matter  came 
upon  me  with  a  shaming  force. 

I  begged  Mr.  Betterton,  therefore,  to  go  and 
speak  with  Mr.  Baggs  whilst  I  remained  waiting 
outside  upon  the  doorstep. 

Of  all  that  miserable  day,  this  was  perhaps  to  me 
the  most  painful  moment.  From  the  instant  that 
Mr.  Betterton  was  admitted  into  the  house  until  he 
returned  to  me  some  twenty  minutes  later,  I  was 
in  a  cold  sweat,  devoured  with  Apprehension  and 
fighting  against  Remorse.  I  could  not  forget  that 
Mr.  Baggs  had  been  my  Master  and  Employer — if 
not  too  kind  an  one — for  years,  and  if  he  had  been 
sent  to  the  Tower  and  accompanied  his  fellow  Con- 
spirators upon  the  Scaffold,  I  verily  believe  that  I 
should  have  felt  like  Judas  Iscariot  and,  like  him, 
would  have  been  unable  to  endure  my  life  after  such 
a  base  Betrayal. 

Fortunately,  however,  Mr.  Betterton  was  soon 
able  to  reassure  me.  He  had,  he  said,  immediately 
warned  Mr.  Baggs  that  something  of  the  Secret 
of  the  Conspiracy  had  come  to  the  ears  of  the 
Countess  of  Castlemaine,  and  that  all  those  who 
were  in  any  way  mixed  up  in  the  Affair  would  be 
wise  to  lie  low  as  far  as  possible,  at  any  rate  for 
a  while. 

Mr.  Baggs,  it  seems,  was  at  first  terrified,  and 
was  on  the  point  of  losing  his  Head  and  committing 
some  act  of  Folly  through  sheer  fright.  But  Mr. 


188     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Betterton's  quieting  Influence  soon  prevailed.  The 
worthy  Attorney,  on  thinking  the  matter  over, 
realized  that  if  he  destroyed  certain  Documents 
which  might  prove  incriminating  to  himself,  he 
would  have  little  else  to  fear.  He  himself  had  never 
written  a  compromising  Letter — he  was  far  too 
shrewd  to  have  thus  committed  himself — and  there 
was  not  a  scrap  of  paper  in  any  one  else's  posses- 
sion which  bore  his  Name  or  might  mark  his  Iden- 
tity, whilst  he  had  not  the  slightest  fear  that  the 
other  Conspirators — who  were  all  of  them  Gentle- 
men— would  betray  the  Complicity  of  an  humble 
Attorney  who  had  rendered  them  loyal  Service. 

Strangely  enough,  Mr.  Baggs  never  suspected  me 
of  having  betrayed  the  whole  thing;  or,  if  he  did, 
he  never  said  so.  So  many  People  plotted  these 
days,  so  many  Conspiracies  were  hatched  then  blown 
upon,  that  I  for  one  imagine  that  Mr.  Baggs  had  a 
hand  in  several  of  these  and  was  paid  high  Fees 
for  his  share  in  them.  Then,  when  anything  un- 
toward happened,  when  mere  Chance,  or  else  a 
Traitor  among  the  Traitors,  caused  the  Conspiracy 
to  abort,  the  worthy  Attorney  would  metaphorically 
shake  the  dust  of  political  Intrigue  from  his  shabby 
shoes,  and  make  a  bonfire  of  every  compromising 
Document  that  might  land  him  in  the  Tower  and 
further.  After  which,  he  was  no  doubt  ready  to 
begin  all  over  again. 

So  it  had  occurred  in  this  instance.  Mr.  Better- 
ton  did  not  wait  to  see  the  bonfire,  which  was  just 
beginning  to  blaze  merrily  in  the  old-fashioned 


THE  HOUR  189 

hearth.  He  told  me  all  about  it  when  he  joined  me 
once  more  upon  the  doorstep,  and  for  the  first  time 
that  day  I  heard  him  laugh  quite  naturally  and  spon- 
taneously while  he  recounted  to  me  Mr.  Baggs' 
Terrors  and  Mistress  Euphrosine's  dignified 
Fussiness. 

"  She  would  have  liked  to  find  some  Pretext,"  he 
said  quite  gaily,  "  for  blaming  me  in  the  Matter. 
But  on  the  whole,  I  think  that  they  were  both 
thankful  for  my  timely  Warning." 

4 

But,  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  this  ended  once 
and  for  all  my  Connection  with  the  house  of  Mr. 
Theophilus  Baggs,  and  since  that  memorable  night 
I  have  never  once  slept  under  his  roof. 

I  went  back  with  Mr.  Betterton  to  his  House  in 
Tothill  Street.  By  the  time  we  reached  it,  it  was 
close  on  ten  o'clock.  Already  he  had  intimated  to 
me  that  henceforth  I  was  to  make  my  home  with 
him;  and  as  soon  as  we  entered  the  House  he 
ordered  his  Servant  to  make  my  room  and  bed  ready 
for  me.  My  Heart  was  filled  with  inexpressible 
gratitude  at  his  Kindness.  Though  I  had,  in  an 
altogether  inexplicable  manner,  run  counter  to  his 
Plans,  he  was  ready  to  forgive  me  and  did  not  with- 
draw his  Friendship  from  me. 

As  time  went  on,  I  was  able  to  tell  him  something 
of  the  Emotions  which  coursed  through  my  Heart 
in  recognition  of  his  measureless  Kindness  to  me; 
but  on  that  first  evening  I  could  not  speak  of  it. 


190     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

When  I  first  beheld  the  cosy  room  which  he  had 
assigned  to  me,  with  its  clean  and  comfortable  bed 
and  substantial  furniture,  I  could  only  bow  my 
Head,  take  his  Hand  and  kiss  it  reverently.  He 
withdrew  it  as  if  he  had  been  stung. 

"  Keep  such  expressions  of  Respect,"  he  said 
almost  roughly,  "  for  one  who  is  worthy." 

"  You,"  I  riposted  simply,  "  are  infinitely  worthy, 
because  You  are  good." 

Then  once  again  his  harsh,  mirthless  Laugh — so 
unlike  his  usual  light-hearted  Merriment — grated 
upon  mine  ear. 

"  Good !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Nay,  friend  Honey- 
wood,  You  are  not,  meseems,  a  master  of  intuition. 
Few  Hearts  in  London  this  night,"  he  added  ear- 
nestly, "  harbour  such  evil  Desires  as  mine." 

But  in  spite  of  what  he  said,  in  spite  of  that 
strange  look  in  his  eyes,  that  Laugh  which  pro- 
claimed a  perturbed  Soul,  I  could  not  bring  myself 
to  believe  that  his  noble  Heart  was  a  Prey  to  aught 
but  noble  Desires,  and  that  those  awful  and  subtle 
Schemes  of  deadly  Revenge  which  have  subsequently 
threatened  to  ruin  his  own  Life  were  even  now 
seething  in  his  Brain. 

For  the  moment,  I  only  remembered  that  when 
first  he  had  requested  me  to  accompany  him  on  his 
evening  Peregrinations,  it  had  been  with  a  view  to 
visiting  the  Countess  of  Castlemaine,  and  I  now 
reminded  him  of  his  Purpose,  thinking  that  his 
desire  had  been  to  beg  for  my  Lord  Stour's  pardon. 
I  did  so,  still  insisting  upon  her  Ladyship's  avowed 


THE  HOUR  191 

Predilection  for  himself,  and  I  noticed  that  while 
I  spoke  thus  he  smiled  grimly  to  himself  and  pres- 
ently said  with  slow  Deliberation : 

"Aye!  Her  Ladyship  hath  vowed  that  out  of 
Gratitude  for  his  public  Eulogy  of  her  Virtue  and 
her  Beauty,  she  would  grant  Mr.  Thomas  Betterton 
any  Favour  he  might  ask  of  her." 

"Aye!  and  her  Ladyship  is  not  like  to  go  back 
on  her  word,"  I  assented  eagerly. 

"  Therefore,"  he  continued,  not  heeding  me,  "  the 
Countess  of  Castlemaine,  who  in  her  turn  can  ob- 
tain any  Favour  she  desires  from  His  Majesty  the 
King,  will  at  my  request  obtain  a  full  and  gracious 
Pardon  for  the  Earl  of  Stour." 

"  She  will  indeed ! "  I  exclaimed,  puzzled  once 
more  at  this  strange  trait  of  Magnanimity — Weak- 
ness, I  called  it — on  the  part  of  a  Man  who  had  on 
two  occasions  been  so  monstrously  outraged.  "  You 
are  a  hero,  Sir,"  I  added  in  an  awed  whisper,  "  to 
think  of  a  pardon  for  your  most  deadly  Enemy." 

He  turned  and  looked  me  full  in  the  eyes.  I 
could  scarce  bear  his  Glance,  for  there  seemed  to 
dwell  within  its  glowing  depths  such  a  World  of 
Misery,  of  Hatred  and  of  thwarted  Passion,  that 
my  Soul  was  filled  with  dread  at  the  sight.  And 
he  said  very  slowly : 

"You  are  wrong  there,  my  Friend.  I  was  not 
thinking  of  a  pardon  for  mine  Enemy,  but  of 
Revenge  for  a  deadly  Insult,  which  it  seems  cannot 
be  wiped  out  in  Blood." 


192     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

5 

I  would  have  said  something  more  after  that,  for 
in  truth  my  Heart  was  full  of  Sympathy  and  of 
Love  for  my  Friend  and  I  longed  to  soothe  and 
console  him,  as  I  felt  I  could  do,  humble  and  un- 
sophisticated though  I  was.  Thoughts  of  You,  dear 
Mistress,  were  running  riot  in  my  Brain.  I  longed 
at  this  momentous  hour,  when  the  Fate  of  many 
Men  whom  I  knew  was  trembling  in  the  balance,  to 
throw  myself  at  Mr.  Betterton's  feet  and  to  con- 
jure him  in  the  name  of  all  his  most  noble  Instincts 
to  give  up  all  thoughts  of  the  proud  Lady  who  had 
disdained  him  and  spurned  his  Affections,  and  to 
turn  once  more  to  the  early  and  pure  Love  of  his 
Life — to  You,  dear  Mistress,  whose  Devotion  had 
been  so  severely  tried  and  yet  had  not  been  found 
wanting,  and  whose  influence  had  always  been  one 
of  Gentleness  and  of  Purity. 

But,  seeing  him  sitting  there  brooding,  obviously  a 
Prey  to  Thoughts  both  deep  and  dark,  I  did  not  dare 
speak,  and  remained  silent  in  the  hope  that,  now  that 
I  was  settled  under  his  roof,  an  Opportunity  would 
occur  for  me  to  tell  him  what  weighed  so  heavily  on 
my  Heart. 

Presently  the  Servant  came  in  and  brought 
Supper,  and  Mr.  Betterton  sat  down  to  it,  bidding 
me  with  perfect  Grace  and  Hospitality  to  sit  op- 
posite to  him.  But  we  neither  of  us  felt  greatly 
inclined  to  eat.  I  was  hungry,  it  is  true ;  yet  every 
Morsel  which  I  conveyed  to  my  mouth  cost  me  an 


THE  HOUR  193 

effort  to  swallow.  This  was  all  the  more  remark- 
able as  at  the  moment  my  whole  Being  was  revelling 
in  the  Succulence  of  the  fare  spread  out  before  me, 
the  Excellence  of  the  Wine,  the  snowy  Whiteness  of 
the  Cloths,  the  Beauty  of  Crystal  and  of  Silver, 
all  of  which  bore  testimony  to  the  fastidious  Taste 
and  the  Refinement  of  the  great  Artist. 

Of  the  great  Events  which  were  even  then  shaping 
themselves  in  White  Hall,  we  did  not  speak.  We 
each  knew  that  the  Other's  mind  was  full  of  what 
might  be  going  on  even  at  this  hour.  But  Mn. 
Betterton  made  not  a  single  Reference  to  it,  and? 
I  too,  therefore,  held  my  tongue.  In  fact,  we  spoke 
but  little  during  Supper,  and  as  I  watched  my 
dearly  loved  Friend  toying  with  his  food,  and  I 
myself  felt  as  if  the  next  mouthful  would  choke  me, 
I  knew  his  Mind  was  far  away. 

It  was  fixed  upon  White  Hall  and  its  stately 
Purlieus  and  upon  the  house  of  the  Countess  of 
Castlemaine,  which  overlooked  the  Privy  Gardens,, 
and  of  His  Majesty  the  King,  His  senses,  I  knew,, 
were  strained  to  catch  the  sound  of  distant  Mur- 
murs, of  running  Footsteps,  of  the  grinding  of  Arms 
or  of  pistol  shots. 

But  not  a  Sound  came  to  disturb  the  peaceful 
Silence  of  this  comfortable  Abode.  The  Servant 
came  and  went,  bringing  food,  then  clearing  it  away, 
pouring  Wine  into  our  glasses,  setting  and  removing 
the  silver  Utensils. 

Anon  Mr.  Betterton  and  I  both  started  and  fur- 


194.      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

tively  caught  one  another's  Glance.  The  tower 
clock  of  Westminster  was  striking  eleven. 

"  For  Good  or  for  Evil,  all  is  over  by  now," 
Mr.  Betterton  said  quietly.  "  Come,  friend  Honey- 
wood;  let's  to  bed." 

I  went  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  For  hours  I  lay 
awake,  wondering  what  had  happened.  Had  the 
Conspirators  succeeded  and  was  His  Majesty  a 
Prisoner  in  their  hands?  or  were  they  themselves 
Captives  in  that  frowning  Edifice  by  the  Water, 
which  had  witnessed  so  many  Deaths  and  such  grim 
Tragedies,  and  from  which  the  only  Egress  led 
straight  to  the  Scaffold  ? 


CHAPTER  XI 
RUMOURS  AND  CONJECTURES 


Very  little  of  what  had  actually  occurred  came  to 
the  ear  of  the  Public.  In  fact,  not  one  Man  in  ten 
in  the  whole  of  the  Cities  of  London  and  West- 
minster knew  that  a  couple  of  hours  before  mid- 
night, when  most  simple  and  honest  Citizens  were 
retiring  to  their  beds,  a  batch  of  dangerous  Con- 
spirators had  been  arrested  even  within  the  Pre- 
cincts of  White  Hall. 

I  heard  all  that  there  was  to  know  from  Mr. 
Betterton,  who  went  out  early  the  following  Morn- 
ing and  returned  fully  informed  of  the  events  of  the 
preceding  Night.  Subsequently  too,  I  gleaned  a 
good  deal  of  information  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  Mistress  Floid.  As  far  as  I  could  gather, 
the  Conspirators  did  carry  out  their  Project  just 
as  they  had  decided  on  it  in  my  Presence.  They  did 
assemble  in  King  Street  and  in  the  by-lanes  leading 
out  of  it,  keeping  my  Lady  Castlemaine's  House  in 
sight,  whilst  others  succeeded  in  Concealing  them- 
selves about  the  Gardens  of  White  Hall,  no  doubt 
with  the  Aid  of  treacherous  and  suborned  Watch- 
men. 

The  striking  of  the  hour  of  ten  was  to  be  the 
signal  for  immediate  and  concerted  Action.  Those 

195 


196     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

in  the  Gardens  stood  by  on  the  watch,  until  after 
His  Majesty  the  King  had  walked  across  from  his 
Palace  to  Her  Ladyship's  House.  His  Majesty,  as 
was  his  wont  when  supping  with  Lady  Castlemaine, 
entered  her  house  by  the  back  door,  and  his  Servants 
followed  him  into  the  house. 

Then  the  Conspirators  waited  for  the  Hour  to 
strike.  Directly  the  last  clang  of  church  bells  had 
ceased  to  reverberate  through  the  humid  evening  air, 
they  advanced  both  from  the  Back  and  the  Front 
of  the  House  simultaneously,  when  they  were  set 
upon  on  the  one  side  by  a  Company  of  His  Majesty's 
Body  Guard  under  the  Command  of  Major  Sach- 
vrell,  who  had  remained  concealed  inside  the 
Palace,  and  on  the  other  by  a  Company  of  Hal- 
berdiers under  the  Command  of  Colonel  Powick. 

When  the  Traitors  were  thus  confronted  by  loyal 
Troops,  they  tried  to  put  up  a  Fight,  not  realizing 
that  such  measures  had  been  taken  by  Major  Sach- 
vrell  and  Colonel  Powick  that  they  could  not  pos- 
sibly hope  to  escape. 

A  scuffle  ensued,  but  the  Conspirators  were  very 
soon  overpowered,  as  indeed  they  were  greatly  out- 
numbered. The  Neighbourhood — even  then  slum- 
bering peacefully— did  no  more  than  turn  over  in 
bed,  marvelling  perhaps  if  a  party  of  Mohocks  on 
mischief  bent  had  come  in  conflict  with  a  Posse  of 
Night-watchmen.  The  Prisoners  were  at  once 
marched  to  the  Tower,  despite  the  Rain  which  had 
once  more  begun  to  fall  heavily;  and  during  the 
long,  wearisome  Tramp  through  the  City,  their 


RUMOURS  AND  CONJECTURES       197 

Ardour  for  Conspiracies  and  Intrigues  must  have 
cooled  down  considerably. 

The  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower  had  everything 
ready  for  the  Reception  of  such  exalted  Guests;  for 
in  truth  my  Lady  Castlemaine  had  not  allowed 
things  to  be  done  by  halves.  Incensed  against  her 
Enemies  in  a  manner  in  which  only  an  adulated  and 
spoilt  Woman  can  be,  she  was  going  to  see  to  it 
that  those  who  had  plotted  against  her  should  be  as 
severely  dealt  with  as  the  Law  permitted. 


Later  on,  I  had  it  from  my  friend,  Mistress 
Floid,  that  the  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode  visited 
the  Countess  of  Castlemaine  during  the  course  of 
the  morning.  She  arrived  at  her  Ladyship's  House 
dressed  in  black  and  with  a  Veil,  as  if  of  mourning, 
over  her  fair  Hair. 

Mistress  Floid  hath  oft  told  me  that  the  Interview 
between  the  two  Ladies  was  truly  pitiable,  and  that 
the  Lady  Barbara  presented  a  heart-rending  Spec- 
tacle. She  begged  and  implored  her  Ladyship  to 
exercise  Mercy  over  a  few  young  Hotheads,  who 
had  been  misled  into  Wrong-doing  by  inflammatory 
Speeches  from  Agitators,  these  being  naught  but 
paid  Agents  of  the  Dutch  Government,  she  averred, 
set  to  create  Discontent  and  if  possible  Civil  War 
once  again  in  England,  so  that  Holland  might 
embark  upon  a  War  of  Revenge  with  some  Cer- 
tainty of  Success. 

But  the  Countess  of  Castlemaine  would  not  listen 


198     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

to  the  Petition  at  all,  and  proud  Lady  Barbara 
Wychwoode  then  flung  herself  at  the  other  Woman's 
feet  and  begged  and  implored  for  Pardon  for  her 
Brother,  her  Lover  and  her  Friends.  Mistress  Floid 
avers  that  my  Lady  Castlemaine  did  nothing  but 
laugh  at  the  poor  Girl's  pleadings,  saying  in  a 
haughty,  supercilious  Manner: 

"  Beauty  in  tears  ?  Tis  a  pretty  sight,  forsooth ! 
But  had  your  Friends  succeeded  in  their  damnable 
Plot,  would  You  have  shed  tears  of  sympathy  for 
Me,  I  wonder  ?  " 

And  I  could  not  find  it  in  me  to  be  astonished  at 
my  Lady  Castlemaine's  Spite  fulness,  for  in  truth  the 
Lady  Barbara's  Friends  had  plotted  her  Disgrace 
and  Ruin.  Not  only  that,  they  had  taken  every 
opportunity  of  vilifying  her  Character  and  making 
her  appear  as  odious  in  the  Eyes  of  the  People  as 
they  very  well  could. 

You  must  not  infer  from  this,  dear  Mistress,  that 
I  am  upholding  my  Lady  Castlemaine  in  any  way. 
Her  mode  of  life  is  abhorrent  to  me  and  I  deeply 
regret  her  Influence  over  His  Majesty  and  over  the 
public  Morals  of  the  Court  Circle,  not  to  say  of  the 
entire  Aristocracy  and  Gentry.  I  am  merely  noting 
the  fact  that  human  Nature  being  what  it  is,  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  when  the  Lady  had  a 
Chance  of  hitting  back,  she  did  so  with  all  her 
Might,  determined  to  lose  nothing  of  this  stupen- 
dous Revenge. 

However  secret  the  actual  Arrest  of  the  Con- 
spirators was  kept  from  public  Knowledge,  it  soon 


RUMOURS  AND  CONJECTURES       199 

transpired  that  such  great  and  noble  Gentlemen  as 
Lord  Teammouth,  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode,  the 
Earl  of  Stour,  not  to  mention  others,  were  in  the 
Tower,  and  that  a  sensational  Trial  for  Conspiracy 
and  High  Treason  was  pending. 

Gradually  the  History  of  the  Plot  had  leaked 
out,  and  how  it  had  become  abortive  owing  to  an 
anonymous  Denunciation  (for  so  it  was  called). 
The  Conspiracy  became  the  talk  of  the  Town.  Sev- 
eral Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  though  not  directly  im- 
plicated in  the  Affair,  but  of  known  ultra-Protestant 
views,  thought  it  best  to  retire  to  their  Country 
Estates,  ostensibly  for  the  benefit  of  their  Health. 

Sinister  Rumours  were  afloat  that  the  Con- 
spirators would  be  executed  without  Trial — had 
already  suffered  the  extreme  Penalty  of  the  Law; 
that  the  Marquis  of  Sidbury,  Father  of  Lord 
Douglas  Wychwoode,  had  suddenly  died  of  Grief; 
that  Torture  would  be  applied  to  the  proletarian 
Accomplices  of  the  noble  Lords — of  whom  there 
were  many — so  as  to  extract  further  Information 
and  Denunciations  from  them.  In  fact,  the  Town 
seethed  with  Conjectures;  People  talked  in  Whis- 
pers and  dispersed  at  sight  of  any  one  who  was 
known  to  belong  to  the  Court  Circle.  The  Theatres 
played  to  empty  Benches,  the  Exchanges  and  Shops 
were  deserted,  for  no  one  liked  to  be  abroad  when 
Arrests  and  Prosecutions  were  in  the  Air. 

Through  it  all,  very  great  Sympathy  was  evinced 
for  the  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode,  whose  pretty 
Face  was  so  well-known  in  Town  and  whose  Charm 


200     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

of  Manner  and  kindly  Disposition  had  endeared  her 
to  many  who  had  had  the  privilege  of  her  Acquaint- 
ance. Public  Opinion  is  a  strange  and  unaccount- 
able Factor  in  the  Affairs  of  Men,  and  Public 
Opinion  found  it  terribly  hard  that  so  young  and 
adulated  a  Girl  as  was  the  Lady  Barbara  should 
at  one  fell  swoop  lose  Brother,  Lover  and  Friends. 
And  I  may  truly  say  that  Satisfaction  was  abso- 
lutely genuine  and  universal  when  it  became  known 
presently  that  the  young  Earl  of  Stour  had  re- 
ceived a  full  and  gracious  Pardon  for  his  supposed 
Share  in  the  abominable  Plot. 

Whether,  on  closer  Investigation,  he  had  been 
proved  innocent  or  whether  the  Pardon  was  due  to 
exalted  or  other  powerful  Influences,  no  one  knew 
as  yet :  all  that  was  a  Certainty  was  that  my  Lord 
Stour  presently  left  the  Tower  a  free  Man  even 
whilst  his  Friends  were  one  and  all  brought  to 
Trial,  and  subsequently  most  of  them  executed  for 
High  Treason,  or  otherwise  severely  punished. 

Lord  Teammouth  suffered  Death  upon  the  Scaf- 
fold, so  did  Sir  James  Campsfield  and  Mr.  Andrew 
Kinver ;  and  there  were  others,  whose  Names  escape 
me  for  the  moment.  Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode 
succeeded  in  fleeing  to  Scotland  and  thence  to  Hol- 
land ;  most  people  averred  owing  to  the  marvellous 
Pluck  and  Ingenuity  of  his  Sister.  A  number  of 
Persons  of  meaner  degree  were  hanged;  in  fact,  a 
Reign  of  Terror  swept  over  the  country,  and  many 
thought  that  the  Judges  had  been  unduly  harsh  and 
over  free  with  their  Pronouncements  of  Death 
Sentences. 


RUMOURS  AND  CONJECTURES       201 

But  it  was  obvious  that  His  Majesty  himself 
meant  to  make  an  Example  of  such  abominable 
Traitors,  before  political  Intrigues  and  Rebellion 
spread  over  the  Country  once  again. 

It  was  all  the  more  strange,  therefore,  that  one 
of  the  Conspirators — the  Earl  of  Stour,  in  fact, 
whose  name  had  been  most  conspicuous  in  connec- 
tion with  the  Affair — should  thus  have  been  the  only 
one  to  enjoy  Immunity.  But,  as  I  said  before, 
nothing  but  Satisfaction  was  expressed  at  first  for 
this  one  small  Ray  of  Sunshine  which  came  to 
brighten  poor  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode's  Misery. 

As  for  me,  I  did  not  know  what  to  think.  Surely 
my  heart  should  have  been  filled  with  Admiration 
for  the  noble  Revenge  which  a  great  Artist  had 
taken  upon  a  hot-headed  young  Coxcomb.  Such 
Magnanimity  was  indeed  unbelievable;  nay,  I  felt 
that  it  showed  a  Weakness  of  Character  of  which  in 
my  innermost  Heart  I  did  not  believe  Mr.  Betterton 
capable. 

To  say  that  I  was  much  rejoiced  over  the  Clem- 
ency shown  to  my  Lord  Stour  would  be  to  deviate 
from  the  Truth.  Looking  back  upon  the  Motives 
which  had  actuated  me  when  I  denounced  the  in- 
famous Plot  to  the  Countess  of  Castlemaine,  I  could 
not  help  but  admit  to  myself  that  Hatred  of  a  young 
Jackanapes  and  a  Desire  for  Vengeance  upon  his 
impudent  Head  had  greatly  influenced  my  Course 
of  Action.  Now  that  I  imagined  him  once  more 
kneeling  at  the  Lady  Barbara's  feet,  an  accepted 
Lover,  triumphant  over  Destiny,  all  the  Sympathy 
which  I  may  have  felt  for  him  momentarily  in  the 


202      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

hour  of  his  Adversity,  died  out  completely  from  my 
Heart,  and  I  felt  that  I  hated  him  even  more  viru- 
lently than  before. 

His  Image,  as  he  had  last  stood  before  me  in  the 
dimly-lighted  room  of  his  noble  Mansion,  sur- 
rounded by  Books,  costly  Furniture,  and  all  the 
Appurtenances  of  a  rich  and  independent  Gentleman, 
was  constantly  before  my  Mind.  I  could,  just  by 
closing  mine  eyes,  see  him  sitting  beside  the  hearth, 
with  the  lovely  Lady  Barbara  beaming  at  him  from 
the  place  opposite,  and  his  Friend  standing  by,  back- 
ing him  up  with  Word  and  Deed  in  all  his  Arro- 
gance and  Overbearing. 

"  The  Earl  of  Stour  cannot  cross  swords  with  a 
Mountebank." 

I  seemed  to  hear  those  Words  reverberating 
across  the  street  like  the  clank  of  some  ghostly 
Bell;  and  whenever  mine  ears  rang  to  their  sound 
I  felt  the  hot  Blood  of  a  just  Wrath  surge  up  to 
my  cheeks  and  my  feeble  Hands  would  close  in  a 
Clutch,  that  was  fierce  as  it  was  impotent. 

3 

The  reported  Death  from  grief  of  the  Marquis 
of  Sidbury  proved  to  be  a  false  Rumour.  But  the 
aged  Peer  did  suffer  severely  from  the  Shame  put 
upon  him  by  his  Son's  Treachery.  The  Wych- 
woodes  had  always  been  loyal  Subjects  of  their 
King.  At  the  time  of  the  late  lamented  Monarch's 
most  crying  Adversity,  he  knew  that  he  could  always 
count  on  the  Devotion  of  that  noble  Family,  the 


RUMOURS  AND  CONJECTURES       203 

Members  of  which  had  jeopardized  their  entire 
Fortune,  their  very  Existence,  in  the  royal  Cause. 

Of  course,  the  present  Marquis's  two  Children 
were  scarce  out  of  the  Nursery  when  the  bitter 
Conflict  raged  between  the  King  and  his  People; 
but  it  must  have  been  terribly  hard  for  a  proud 
Man  to  bear  the  thought  that  his  only  Son,  as  soon 
as  he  had  reached  Man's  Estate,  should  have  raised 
his  Hand  against  his  Sovereign. 

No  doubt  owing  to  the  disturbed  State  of  many 
influential  Circles  of  Society  that  Winter,  and  the 
number  of  noble  Families  who  were  in  mourning 
after  the  aborted  Conspiracy  and  the  wholesale 
Executions  that  ensued,  the  Marriage  between  the 
Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode  and  the  Earl  of  Stour 
was  postponed  until  the  Spring,  and  then  it  would 
take  place  very  quietly  at  the  Bride's  home  in 
Sussex,  whither  she  had  gone  of  late  with  her 
Father,  both  living  there  for  a  while  in  strict  Re- 
tirement 

Lord  Douglas  Wychwoode,  so  it  was  understood, 
had  succeeded  in  reaching  Holland,  where,  I  doubt 
not,  he  continued  to  carry  on  those  political  In- 
trigues against  his  lawful  Sovereign  which  would 
of  a  surety  one  day  bring  him  to  an  ignominious 
End. 

I  was  now  living  in  the  greatest  Comfort  and  was 
supremely  happy,  in  the  House  of  Mr.  Betterton. 
He  employed  me  as  his  Secretary,  and  in  truth  my 
place  was  no  sinecure,  for  I  never  could  have  be- 
lieved that  there  were  so  many  foolish  Persons  in 
the  World  who  spent  their  time  in  writing  Letters 


204     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

— laudatory  or  otherwise — to  such  great  Men  as 
were  in  the  public  Eye.  I  myself,  though  I  have 
always  been  a  wholehearted  Admirer  of  Men  of 
Talent  and  Erudition,  would  never  have  taken  it 
upon  myself  to  trouble  them  with  Effusions  from  my 
Pen.  And  yet  Letter  after  Letter  would  come  to 
the  house  in  Tothill  Street,  addressed  to  Mr. 
Thomas  Betterton.  Some  written  by  great  and 
noble  Ladies  whose  Names  would  surprise  You, 
dear  Mistress,  were  I  to  mention  them ;  others  were 
from  Men  of  position  and  of  learning  who  desired 
to  express  to  the  great  Artist  all  the  Pleasure  that 
they  had  derived  from  his  rendering  of  noble 
Characters. 

Mr.  Pepys,  a  Gentleman  of  great  knowledge  and 
a  Clerk  in  the  Admiralty,  wrote  quite  frequently  to 
Mr.  Betterton,  sometimes  to  express  unstinted 
Praise  for  the  great  Actor's  Performance  in  one  of 
his  favourite  Plays,  or  sometimes  venturing  on 
Criticism,  which  was  often  shrewd  and  never  dis- 
dained. 

But,  after  all,  am  I  not  wasting  time  by  telling 
You  that  which  You,  dear  Mistress,  know  well 
enough  from  your  own  personal  Experience?  I 
doubt  not  but  you  receive  many  such  Letters,  both 
from  Admirers  and  from  Friends,  not  to  mention 
Enemies,  who  are  always  to  the  fore  when  a  Man 
or  Woman  rises  by  Talent  or  Learning  above  the 
dead  level  of  the  rest  of  Humanity. 

It  was  then  my  duty  to  read  those  Letters  and 
to  reply  to  them,  which  I  did  at  Mr.  Betterton's 


RUMOURS  AND  CONJECTURES       205 

Dictation,  and  in  my  choicest  Caligraphy  with  many 
Embellishments  such  as  I  had  learned  whilst  I  was 
Clerk  to  Mr.  Baggs.  Thus  it  was  that  I  obtained 
Confirmation  of  the  Fact  which  was  still  agitating 
my  Mind:  namely,  Mr.  Betterton's  share  in  the 
Events  which  led  to  His  Majesty's  gracious  Pardon 
being  extended  to  the  Earl  of  Stour.  I  had,  of 
course,  more  than  suspected  all  along  that  it  was  my 
Friend  who  had  approached  the  Countess  of 
Castlemaine  on  the  Subject,  yet  could  not  imagine 
how  any  Man,  who  was  smarting  under  such  a 
terrible  Insult,  as  Mr.  Betterton  had  suffered  at  the 
hands  of  my  Lord  Stour,  could  find  it  in  his  Heart 
thus  to  return  Good  for  Evil,  and  with  such  splendid 
Magnanimity. 

But  here  I  had  Chapter  and  Verse  for  the  whole 
Affair,  because  my  Lady  Castlemaine  wrote  to  Mr. 
Betterton  more  than  once  upon  the  Subject,  and 
always  in  the  same  bantering  tone,  chaffing  him  for 
his  Chivalry  and  his  Heroism,  saying  very  much 
what  I  should  myself,  if  I  had  had  the  Courage  or 
the  Presumption  to  do  so.  She  kept  him  well  in- 
formed of  her  Endeavours  on  behalf  of  Lord  Stour, 
referring  to  the  King's  Severity  and  Obstinacy  in 
the  matter  in  no  measured  Language,  but  almost 
invariably  closing  her  Epistles  with  a  reiteration 
of  her  promise  to  the  great  Artist  to  grant  him  any 
Favour  he  might  ask  of  her. 

"  I  do  work  most  strenuously  on  your  behalf, 
You  adorably  wicked  Man,"  her  Ladyship  wrote  in 
one  of  her  Letters;  "but  I  could  wish  that  You 


206     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

would  ask  something  of  me  which  more  closely  con- 
cerned Yourself." 

On  another  occasion  she  said : 

"  For  the  first  time  yester  evening  I  wrung  a  half 
Promise  from  His  Majesty;  but  You  cannot  con- 
ceive in  what  a  Predicament  You  have  placed  me, 
for  His  Majesty  hath  shown  signs  of  Suspicion 
since  I  plead  so  earnestly  on  behalf  of  Lord  Stour. 
If  my  Insistence  were  really  to  arouse  his  Jealousy 
your  Protege  would  certainly  lose  his  Head  and  I 
probably  my  Place  in  the  King's  Affections." 

And  then  again : 

"  It  greatly  puzzles  me  why  You  should  thus 
favour  my  Lord  Stour.  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  he 
hath  insulted  You  beyond  the  Hope  of  Pardon? 
And  yet,  not  only  do  You  plead  for  your  Enemy 
with  passionate  insistence,  but  You  enjoin  me  at 
the  same  time  to  keep  your  noble  purpose  a  Secret 
from  him.  Truly,  but  for  my  promise  to  You,  I 
would  throw  up  the  Sponge,  and  that  for  your  own 
good.  ...  I  did  not  know  that  Artists  were 
Altruists.  Methought  that  Egotism  was  their  most 
usual  Foible." 

Thus  I  could  no  longer  remain  in  doubt  as  to 
who  the  Benefactor  was,  whom  my  Lord  of  Stour 
had  to  thank  for  his  very  life.  Yet,  withal,  the 
Secret  was  so  well  kept  that,  even  in  this  era  of 
ceaseless  Gossip  and  Chatter,  every  one,  even  in  the 
most  intimate  Court  Circle,  was  ignorant  of  the 
subtle  Intrigue  which  had  been  set  in  motion  on 
behalf  of  the  young  Gallant. 


CHAPTER  XII 
POISONED  ARROWS 


Do  you  remember,  dear  Mistress,  those  lovely 
days  we  had  in  February  this  year?  They  were 
more  like  days  of  Spring  than  of  Winter.  For  a 
fortnight  we  revelled  in  sunshine  and  a  temperature 
more  fitting  for  May  than  for  one  of  the  Winter 
months. 

In  London,  Rich  and  Poor  alike  came  out  into 
the  Air  like  flies;  the  public  Gardens  and  other 
Places  of  common  resort  were  alive  with  Prom- 
enaders;  the  Walks  and  Arbours  in  the  Gray's  Inn 
Walks  or  the  Mulberry  Garden  were  astir  with  bril- 
liant Company.  All  day,  whether  you  sauntered  in 
Hyde  Park,  refreshed  yourself  with  a  collation  in 
Spring  Gardens  or  strolled  into  the  New  Exchange, 
you  would  find  such  a  crowd  of  Men  and  Women 
of  Mode,  such  a  Galaxy  of  Beauty  and  Bevy  of  fair 
Maids  and  gallant  Gentlemen  as  had  not  been  seen 
in  the  Town  since  that  merry  month  of  May,  nigh 
on  two  years  ago  now,  when  our  beloved  King 
returned  from  Exile  and  all  vied  one  with  the  other 
to  give  him  a  cheerful  Welcome. 

To  say  that  this  period  was  one  of  unexampled 
207 


208      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Triumph  for  Mr.  Betterton  would  be  but  to  repeat 
what  You  know  just  as  well  as  I  do.  He  made 
some  truly  remarkable  hits  in  certain  Plays  of  the 
late  Mr.  William  Shakespeare,  notably  in  "  Mac- 
beth," in  "King  Lear,"  and  in  "  Hamlett." 
Whether  I  like  these  Plays  myself  or  not  is  beside 
the  point;  whatever  I  thought  of  them  I  kept  to  my- 
self, but  was  loud  in  my  Admiration  of  the  great 
Actor,  who  indeed  had  by  now  conquered  all  Hearts, 
put  every  other  Performer  in  the  Shade  and  raised 
the  Status  of  the  Duke's  Company  of  Players  to  a 
level  far  transcending  that  ever  attained  by  Mr. 
Killigrew's  old  Company. 

This  Opinion,  at  any  rate,  I  have  the  Honour  of 
sharing  with  all  the  younger  generation  of  Play- 
goers who  flock  to  the  Theatre  in  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields,  even  while  the  King's  House  in  Vere  Street 
is  receiving  but  scanty  Patronage.  Of  course  my 
Judgment  may  not  be  altogether  impartial,  seeing 
that  in  addition  to  Mr.  Betterton,  who  is  the  finest 
Actor  our  English  Stage  has  ever  known,  the  Duke's 
House  also  boasts  of  the  loveliest  Actress  that  ever 
walked  before  the  Curtain. 

You,  dear  Mistress,  were  already  then,  as  You 
are  now,  at  the  zenith  of  your  Beauty  and  Fame, 
and  your  damask  Cheeks  would  blush,  I  know,  if 
you  were  to  read  for  yourself  some  of  the  Eulogies 
which  the  aforementioned  Mr.  Samuel  Pepys  in  his 
Letters  to  Mr.  Betterton  bestows  upon  the  exquisite 
Mistress  Saunderson — "  lanthe,"  as  he  has  been 
wont  to  call  you  ever  since  he  saw  You  play  that 


POISONED  ARROWS  209 

part  in  Sir  William  Davenant's  "The  Siege  of 
Rhodes." 

Of  course  I  know  that  of  late  no  other  sentimental 
tie  hath  existed  outwardly  between  Mr.  Betterton 
and  Yourself  save  that  of  Comradeship  and  friendly 
Intercourse ;  but  often  when  sitting  in  the  Pit  of  the 
Theatre  I  watched  You  and  Him  standing  together 
before  the  curtain,  and  receiving  the  Plaudits  of  an 
enthusiastic  Audience,  I  prayed  to  God  in  my  Heart 
to  dissipate  the  Cloud  of  Misunderstanding  which 
had  arisen  between  You;  aye!  and  I  cursed  fer- 
vently the  Lady  Barbara  and  her  noble  Lover,  who 
helped  to  make  that  Cloud  more  sombre  and  im- 
penetrable. 


I  naturally  heard  a  great  deal  more  of  Society 
Gossip  these  days  than  I  was  wont  to  do  during 
the  time  that  I  was  a  mere  Clerk  in  the  Employ 
of  Mr.  Theophilus  Baggs.  My  kind  Employer 
treated  me  more  as  a  Friend  than  a  Servant.  I 
had  fine  Clothes  to  wear,  accompanied  him  on  sev- 
eral Occasions  when  he  appeared  in  Public,  and  was 
constantly  in  his  tiring-room  at  the  Theatre,  where 
he  received  and  entertained  a  never-ending  Stream 
of  Friends. 

Thus,  towards  the  end  of  the  Month,  I  gathered 
from  the  Conversation  of  Gentlemen  around  me 
that  the  Marquess  of  Sidbury  had  come  up  to  Town 
in  the  Company  of  his  beautiful  Daughter.  He  had, 
they  said,  taken  advantage  of  the  fine  Weather  to 


210     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

make  the  Journey  to  London,  as  he  desired  to  con- 
sult the  Court  Physician  on  the  Matter  of  his 
Health. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  strange  Look  that  came 
into  Mr.  Betterton's  face  when  first  the  Subject  was 
mentioned.  He  and  some  Friends — Ladies  as  well 
as  Gentlemen — were  assembled  in  the  small  Recep- 
tion Room  which  Jiath  lately  been  fitted  up  behind 
the  Stage.  Upholstered  and  curtained  with  a  pleas- 
ing Shade  of  Green,  the  Room  is  much  frequented 
by  Artists  and  their  Friends,  and  it  is  always 
crowded  during  the  Performance  of  those  Plays 
wherein  one  of  the  leading  Actors  or  Actresses  has 
a  part. 

We  have  taken  to  calling  the  place  the  Green 
Room,  and  here  on  the  occasion  of  a  performance 
of  Mr.  Webster's  "Duchess  of  Malfy,"  in  which 
You,  dear  Mistress,  had  no  part,  a  very  brilliant 
Company  was  assembled.  Sir  William  Davenant 
was  there,  as  a  matter  of  course,  so  was  Sir  George 
Etherege,  and  that  brilliant  young  dramatist  Mr. 
Wycherley.  In  addition  to  that,  there  were  one  or 
two  very  great  Gentlemen  there,  members  of  the 
Court  Circle  and  enthusiastic  Playgoers,  who  were 
also  intimate  Friends  of  Mr.  Betterton.  I  am  re- 
ferring particularly  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  to 
my  Lord  Rochester,  Lord  Orrery  and  others.  A 
brilliant  Assembly  forsooth,  which  testified  to  the 
high  Esteem  in  which  the  great  Artist  is  held  by  all 
those  who  have  the  privilege  of  knowing  him. 

I  told  You  that  when  first  the  Name  of  the  Lady 


POISONED  ARROWS  211 

Barbara  was  mentioned  in  the  Green  Room,  a 
strange  Glance,  which  I  was  unable  to  interpret,  shot 
out  of  Mr.  Betterton's  eyes,  and  as  I  gazed  upon  that 
subtle,  impalpable  Change  which  suddenly  trans- 
formed his  serene  Expression  of  Countenance  into 
one  that  was  almost  Evil,  I  felt  a  curious  sinking  of 
the  Heart — a  dread  Premonition  of  what  was  to 
come.  You  know  how  his  lips  are  ever  ready  to 
smile:  now  they  appeared  thin  and  set,  while  the 
sensitive  Nostrils  quivered  almost  like  those  of  the 
wild  Beasts  which  we  have  all  of  us  frequently 
watched  in  the  Zoological  Gardens,  when  the  At- 
tendants bring  along  the  food  for  the  day  and  they, 
eager  and  hungry,  know  that  the  Hour  of  Satis- 
faction is  nigh. 

"  The  fair  Lady  Babs,"  one  of  the  young  Gal- 
lants was  saying  with  studied  Flippancy,  "  is  more 
beautiful  than  ever,  methinks;  even  though  she  goes 
about  garbed  in  the  Robes  of  Sorrow." 

"  Poor  young  thing !  "  commented  His  Grace  of 
Buckingham  kindly.  "  She  has  been  hard  hit  in  that 
last  Affair." 

"  I  wonder  what  has  happened  to  Wychwoode," 
added  Lord  Rochester,  who  had  been  a  known 
Friend  of  Lord  Douglas. 

"  Oh !  he  reached  Holland  safely  enough,"  an- 
other Gentleman  whom  I  did  not  know  averred.  "  I 
suppose  he  thinks  that  it  will  all  blow  over  pres- 
ently and  that  he  will  obtain  a  free  pardon " 

"  Like  my  Lord  Stour,"  commented  Mr.  Better- 
ton  drily. 


212     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  Oh !  that's  hardly  likely,"  interposed  Sir  George 
Etherege.  "  Wychwoode  was  up  to  the  neck  in  the 
Conspiracy,  whilst  Stour  was  proved  to  be  innocent 
of  the  whole  affair." 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  "  Mr.  Betterton  asked 
quietly. 

"How  do  I  know  it?"  retorted  Sir  George. 
"Why?  .  .  .  How  do  we  all  know  it?" 

"  I  was  wondering,"  was  Mr.  Betterton's  calm 
Rejoinder. 

"  I  imagine,"  broke  in  another  Gentleman,  "  that 
at  the  Trial " 

"  Stour  never  stood  his  trial,  now  you  come  to 
think  of  it,"  here  interposed  my  Lord  of  Rochester. 

"  He  was  granted  a  free  Pardon,"  asserted  His 
Grace  of  Buckingham,  "  two  days  after  his  Arrest." 

"  At  the  Instance  of  the  Countess  of  Castle- 
maine,  so  I  am  told,"  concluded  Mr.  Betterton. 

You  see,  he  only  put  in  a  Word  here  and  there, 
but  always  to  some  purpose;  and  oh!  that  Purpose 
I  simply  dared  not  guess.  I  was  watching  him, 
remember,  watching  him  as  only  a  devoted  Friend 
or  a  fond  Mother  know  how  to  watch;  and  I  saw 
that  set  look  on  his  Face  grow  harder  and  harder 
and  a  steely,  glittering  Light  flash  out  of  his  Eyes. 

My  God!  how  I  suffered!  For  with  that  Intui- 
tion which  comes  to  us  at  times  when  those  whom 
we  love  are  in  deadly  peril,  I  had  suddenly  beheld 
the  Abyss  of  Evil  into  which  my  Friend  was  about 
to  plunge  headlong.  Yes!  I  understood  now  why 
Mr.  Betterton  had  pleaded  with  my  Lady  Castle- 


POISONED  ARROWS  213 

maine  for  his  Enemy's  Life.  It  was  not  in  order 
to  confer  upon  him  a  lasting  benefit  and  thus  shame 
him  by  his  Magnanimity ;  but  rather  in  order  to  do 
him  an  Injury  so  irreparable  that  even  Death  could 
not  wipe  it  away. 

But  you  shall  judge,  dear  Mistress;  and  thus 
judging  You  will  understand  much  that  has  been 
so  obscure  in  my  dear  Friend's  Character  and  in  his 
Actions  of  late.  And  to  understand  All  is  to  for- 
give All.  One  thing  you  must  remember,  however, 
and  that  is  that  no  Man  of  Mr.  Betterton's  Worth 
hath  ever  suffered  in  his  Pride  and  his  innermost 
Sensibilities  as  he  hath  done  at  the  Hands  of  that 
young  Jackanapes  whom  he  hated — as  I  had  good 
cause  to  know  now — with  an  Intensity  which  was 
both  cruel  and  relentless.  He  meant  to  be  even  with 
him,  to  fight  him  with  his  own  Weapons,  which 
were  those  of  Contempt  and  of  Ridicule.  He  meant 
to  wound  there,  where  he  himself  had  suffered  most, 
in  Reputation  and  in  Self-Respect. 

I  saw  it  all,  and  was  powerless  to  do  aught  save 
to  gaze  in  mute  Heart-Agony  on  the  marring  of  a 
noble  Soul.  Nay!  I  am  not  ashamed  to  own  it: 
I  did  in  my  Heart  condemn  my  Friend  for  what  he 
had  set  out  to  do.  I  too  hated  Lord  Stour,  God 
forgive  me!  but  two  months  ago  I  would  gladly 
have  seen  his  arrogant  Head  fall  upon  the  Scaffold ; 
but  this  subtle  and  calculating  Revenge,  this  cold 
Intrigue  to  ruin  a  Man's  Reputation  and  to  be- 
smirch his  Honour,  was  beyond  my  ken,  and  I  could 
have  wept  to  see  the  great  Soul  of  the  Man,  whom 


214      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

I  admired  most  in  all  the  World,  a  prey  to  such  an 
evil  Purpose. 

"We  all  know,"  one  of  the  young  Sparks  was 
saying  even  now,  "that  my  Lady  Castlemaine 
showed  Stour  marked  favour  from  the  very  mo- 
ment he  appeared  at  Court." 

"We  also  know,"  added  Mr.  Betterton  with 
quiet  Irony,  "  that  the  whisper  of  a  beautiful 
Woman  often  drowns  the  loudest  call  of  Honour." 

"But  surely  you  do  not  think ?"  riposted 

Lord  Rochester  indignantly,  "that — that " 

"  That  what,  my  lord  ?  "  queried  Mr.  Betterton 
calmly. 

"  Why,  demme,  that  Stour  did  anything  dis- 
honourable ?  " 

"Why  should  I  not  think  that?"  retorted  Mr. 
Betterton,  with  a  slight  Elevation  of  the  Eyebrows. 

"  Because  he  is  a  Stourcliffe  of  Stour,  Sir,"  broke 
in  Sir  George  Etherege  in  that  loud,  blustering  way 
he  hath  at  times ;  "  and  bears  one  of  the  greatest 
Names  in  the  Land." 

"  A  great  Name  is  hereditary,  Sir,"  rejoined  the 
great  Actor  quietly.  "  Honesty  is  not." 

"  But  what  does  Lady  Castlemaine  say  about  it 
all?"  interposed  Lord  Orrery. 

"  Lady  Castlemaine  hath  not  been  questioned  on 
the  subject,  I  imagine,"  interposed  Sir  William 
Davenant  drily. 

"  Ah ! "  rejoined  His  Grace  of  Buckingham. 
"  There  you  are  wrong,  Davenant.  I  remember 
speaking  to  her  Ladyship  about  Stour  one  day — 


POISONED  ARROWS  215 

saying  how  glad  I  was  that  he,  at  any  rate,  had  had 
nothing  to  do  with  that  abominable  Affair.'* 

"  Well  ?  "  came  eagerly  from  every  one.  "  What 
did  she  say?  " 

His  Grace  remained  thoughtful  for  a  time,  as  if 
trying  to  recollect  Something  that  was  eluding  his 
Memory.  Then  he  said,  turning  to  Mr.  Betterton : 

"Why,  Tom,  you  were  there  at  the  time.  Do 
You  recollect?  It  was  at  one  of  Her  Ladyship's 
Supper  Parties.  His  Majesty  was  present.  We  all 
fell  to  talking  about  the  Conspiracy,  and  the  King 
said  some  very  bitter  things.  Then  I  thought  I 
would  say  something  about  Stour.  You  re- 
member? " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  replied  Mr.  Betterton. 

"  What  did  Lady  Castlemaine  say?  " 

"  I  don't  think  she  said  anything.  Methinks  she 
only  laughed." 

"  So  she  did !  "  assented  His  Grace ;  "  and  winked 
at  You,  you  Rogue!  I  recollect  the  Circumstance 
perfectly  now,  though  I  attached  no  importance  to 
it  at  the  time.  But  I  can  see  it  all  before  me.  His 
Majesty  frowned  and  continued  to  look  glum,  whilst 
the  Countess  of  Castlemaine  vowed  with  a  laugh 
that,  anyway,  my  lord  Stour  was  the  handsomest 
Gentleman  in  London,  and  that  'twere  a  pity  to 
allow  such  a  beautiful  Head  to  fall  on  the  Scaffold." 

"  It  certainly  sounds  very  strange,"  mused  my 
Lord  Rochester,  and  fell  to  talking  in  Whispers  with 
Sir  George  Etherege,  whilst  His  Grace  of  Buck- 
ingham went  and  sat  down  beside  Mr.  Betterton, 


216      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

and  obviously  started  to  discuss  the  Incident  of  the 
Supper  Party  all  over  again  with  the  great  Actor. 
Other  isolated  Groups  also  formed  themselves,  and 
I  knew  that  my  Lord  Stour's  Name  was  on  every 
one's  lips. 

Traducement  and  Gossip  is  Meat  and  Drink  to 
all  these  noble  and  distinguished  Gentlemen,  and 
here  they  had  something  to  talk  about,  which  would 
transcend  in  Scandal  anything  that  had  gone  be- 
fore. The  story  about  my  Lord  Stour  would 
spread  with  the  Rapidity  which  only  evil-loving 
Tongues  can  give.  Alas !  my  poor  Friend  knew  that 
well  enough  when  he  shot  his  poisoned  Arrows  into 
the  Air.  I  was  watching  him  whilst  His  Grace  of 
Buckingham  conversed  with  him:  I  saw  the  fever- 
ishly keen  look  in  his  eyes  as  he,  in  his  turn,  watched 
the  Ball  of  Slander  and  Gossip  being  tossed  about 
from  one  Group  to  another.  He  said  but  little, 
hardly  gave  Answer  to  His  Grace;  but  I  could  see 
that  he  was  on  the  alert,  ready  with  other  little 
poisoned  Darts  whenever  he  saw  Signs  of  weaken- 
ing in  the  Volume  of  Backbiting,  which  he  had  so 
deliberately  set  going. 

"  I  liked  Stour  and  I  admired  him,"  Lord 
Rochester  said  at  one  time.  "  I  could  have  sworn 
that  Nature  herself  had  written  '  honest  man '  on 
his  face." 

"  Ah ! "  interposed  Mr.  Betterton,  with  that 

quiet  Sarcasm  which  I  had  learned  to  dread. 
"  Nature  sometimes  writes  with  a  very  bad  Pen." 


POISONED  ARROWS  217 

3 

It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  Scandal 
against  my  Lord  Stour,  which  was  started  in  the 
Green  Room  of  the  Theatre,  grew  in  Magnitude 
with  amazing  Rapidity.  I  could  not  tell  you,  dear 
Mistress,  what  my  innermost  feelings  were  in  re- 
gard to  the  Matter :  being  an  humble  and  ignorant 
Clerk  and  devoted  to  the  one  Man  to  whom  I  owe 
everything  that  makes  life  pleasing.  I  had  neither 
the  Wish  nor  the  mental  Power  to  tear  my  Heart 
to  Pieces,  in  order  to  find  out  whether  it  beat  in 
Sympathy  with  my  Friend,  or  with  the  Victim  of 
such  a  complete  and  deadly  Revenge. 

My  Lord  Stour  was  not  then  in  London.  He  too, 
like  many  of  his  Friends — notably  the  Marquis  of 
Sidbury  and  others  not  directly  accused  of  Partici- 
pation in  the  aborted  Plot — had  retired  to  his  Coun- 
try Estate,  probably  unwilling  to  witness  the  gaieties 
of  City  Life,  while  those  he  cared  for  most  were 
in  such  dire  Sorrow.  But  now  that  the  Lady  Bar- 
bara and  her  Father  were  once  more  in  Town,  there 
was  little  doubt  that  he  too  would  return  there 
presently.  Since  he  was  a  free  Man,  and  Lord 
Douglas  Wychwoode  had  succeeded  in  evading  the 
Law,  there  was  no  doubt  that  the  natural  Elasticity 
of  Youth  coupled  with  the  prospect  of  the  happy 
future  which  lay  before  him,  would  soon  enable  him 
to  pick,  up  the  Threads  of  Life,  there  where  they 
had  been  so  unexpectedly  and  ruthlessly  entangled. 

I  imagine  that  when  his  Lordship  first  arrived  in 


218     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Town  and  once  more  established  himself  in  the 
magnificent  Mansion  in  Canon's  Row  which  I  had 
bitter  cause  to  know  so  well,  he  did  not  truly  vis- 
ualize the  Atmosphere  of  brooding  Suspicion  which 
encompassed  him  where  e'er  he  went.  If  he  did 
notice  that  one  or  two  of  his  former  Friends  did 
give  him  something  of  a  cold  shoulder,  I  believe  that 
he  would  attribute  this  more  to  political  than  to 
personal  Reasons.  He  had  undoubtedly  been  im- 
plicated in  a  Conspiracy  which  was  universally  con- 
demned for  its  Treachery  and  Disloyalty,  and  no 
doubt  for  a  time  he  would  have  to  bear  the  brunt 
of  public  Condemnation,  even  though  the  free 
Pardon,  which  had  so  unexpectedly  been  granted 
him,  proved  that  he  had  been  more  misguided  than 
really  guilty. 

His  Arrival  in  London,  his  Appearance  in  Public 
Places,  his  obvious  ignorance  of  the  Cloud  which 
was  hanging  over  his  fair  Name,  were  the  subject 
of  constant  Discussion  and  Comment  in  the  Green 
Room  of  the  Theatre  as  well  as  elsewhere.  And  I 
take  it  that  his  very  Insouciance,  the  proud  Care- 
lessness wherewith  he  met  the  cold  Reception  which 
had  been  granted  him,  would  soon  have  got  over 
the  scandalous  tale  which  constant  Gossip  alone 
kept  alive,  except  that  one  tongue — and  one  alone 
— never  allowed  that  Gossip  to  rest. 

And  that  Tongue  was  an  eloquent  as  well  as  a 
bitter  one,  and  more  cunning  than  even  I  could  ever 
have  believed. 

How  oft  in  the  Green  Room,  in  the  midst  of  a 


POISONED  ARROWS  219 

i 

brilliant  Company,  have  I  listened  to  the  flippant 
talk  of  gay  young  Sparks,  only  to  hear  it  drifting 
inevitably  toward  the  Subject  of  my  Lord  Stour, 
and  of  that  wholly  unexplainable  Pardon,  which 
had  left  him  a  free  Man,  whilst  all  his  former  Asso- 
ciates had  either  perished  as  Traitors,  or  were  forced 
to  lead  the  miserable  life  of  an  Exile,  far  from 
Home.  Kindred  and  Friends. 

Drifting,  did  I  say?  Nay,  the  Talk  was  in- 
variably guided  in  that  direction  by  the  unerring 
Voice  of  a  deeply  outraged  Man  who,  at  last,  was 
taking  his  Revenge.  A  word  here,  an  Insinuation 
there,  a  witty  Remark  or  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders, 
and  that  volatile  sprite,  Public  Opinion,  would  veer 
back  from  any  possible  doubt  or  leniency  to  the 
eternally  unanswered  Riddle:  "When  so  many  of 
his  Friends  perished  upon  the  Scaffold,  how  was  it 
that  my  Lord  Stour  was  free  ?  " 

How  it  had  come  about  I  know  not,  but  it  is 
certain  that  very  soon  it  became  generally  known 
that  his  Lordship  had  been  entrusted  by  his  Friends 
with  the  distribution  of  Manifestos  which  were  to 
rally  certain  Waverers  to  the  cause  of  the  Con- 
spirators. And  it  was  solemnly  averred  that  it  was 
in  consequence  of  a  Copy  of  this  same  Manifesto, 
together  with  a  list  of  prominent  Names,  coming 
into  the  hands  of  my  Lady  Castlemaine,  that  so 
many  Gentlemen  were  arrested  and  executed, 
and  my  Lord  Stour  had  been  allowed  to  go 
scot-free. 

How  could  I  help  knowing  that  this  last  Slander 


220     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

had  emanated  from  the  Green  Room,  with  the  object 
of  laying  the  final  stone  to  the  edifice  of  Calumnies, 
which  was  to  crush  an  Enemy's  Reputation  and  fair 
Fame  beyond  the  hope  of  Retrieval  ? 

4 

A  day  or  two  later  my  Lord  Stour,  walking  with 
a  Friend  in  St.  James's  Park,  came  face  to  face  with 
Mr.  Betterton,  who  had  Sir  William  Davenant  and 
the  Duke  of  Albemarle  with  him  as  well  as  one  or 
two  other  Gentlemen,  whilst  he  leaned  with  his 
wonted  kindness  and  familiarity  on  my  arm.  Mr. 
Betterton  would,  I  think,  have  passed  by;  but  my 
Lord  Stour,  ignoring  him  as  if  he  were  dirt  under 
aristocratic  feet,  stopped  with  ostentatious  good-will 
to  speak  with  the  General. 

But  his  Grace  did  in  truth  give  the  young  Lord  a 
very  cold  shoulder  and  Sir  William  Davenant, 
equally  ostentatiously,  started  to  relate  piquant 
Anecdotes  to  young  Mr.  Harry  Wordsley,  who  was 
just  up  from  the  country. 

I  saw  my  Lord  Stour's  handsome  face  darken 
with  an  angry  frown.  For  awhile  he  appeared  to 
hesitate  as  to  what  he  should  do,  then  with  scant 
Ceremony  he  took  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  by  the 
coat-sleeve  and  said  hastily: 

"  My  Lord  Duke,  You  and  my  Father  fought  side 
by  side  on  many  occasions.  Now,  I  like  not  your 
Attitude  towards  me.  Will  you  be  pleased  to 
explain?  " 

The  General  tried  to  evade  him,  endeavoured  to 


POISONED  ARROWS  221 

disengage  his  coat-sleeve,  but  my  Lord  Stour  was 
tenacious.  A  kind  of  brooding  Obstinacy  sat  upon 
his  good-looking  face,  and  after  awhile  he  reiterated 
with  almost  fierce  Insistence : 

"  No !  no !  you  shall  not  go,  my  Lord,  until  You 
have  explained.  I  am  tired,"  he  added  roughly, 
"of  suspicious  looks  and  covert  smiles,  an  atmos- 
phere of  ill-will  which  greets  me  at  every  turn. 
Politically,  many  may  differ  from  Me,  but  I  have 
yet  to  learn  that  a  Gentleman  hath  not  the  right  to 
his  own  Opinions  without  being  cold-shouldered  by 
his  Friends." 

The  Duke  of  Albemarle  allowed  him  to  talk  on 
for  awhile.  His  Grace  obviously  was  making  up 
his  mind  to  take  a  decisive  step  in  the  matter.  After 
a  while  he  did  succeed  in  disengaging  his  coat- 
sleeve  from  the  persistent  Clutch  of  his  young 
Friend,  and  then,  looking  the  latter  straight  between 
the  eyes,  he  said  firmly: 

"  My  Lord,  as  You  say,  your  Father  and  I  were 
Friends  and  Comrades  in  Arms.  Therefore  You 
must  forgive  an  old  Man  and  a  plain  Soldier  a 
pertinent  question.  Will  you  do  that?" 

"  Certainly,"  was  my  Lord  Stour's  quiet  Reply. 

"  Very  well  then,"  continued  His  Grace,  while  all 
of  us  who  were  there  held  our  breath,  feeling  that 
this  Colloquy  threatened  to  have  a  grave  issue. 
"  Very  well.  I  am  glad  that  You  have  given  me 
this  opportunity  of  hearing  some  sort  of  Explana- 
tion from  You,  for  in  truth,  Rumour  of  late  hath 
been  over  busy  with  your  Name." 


222     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  An  Explanation,  my  Lord  ?  "  the  young  Man 
said,  with  an  added  frown. 

"Aye!"  replied  His  Grace.  "That's  just  the 
Word.  An  Explanation.  For  I,  my  Lord,  as  your 
Father's  Friend,  will  ask  You  this:  how  is  it  that 
while  Teammouth,  Campsfield  and  so  many  of  your 
Associates  perished  upon  the  Scaffold,  You  alone, 
of  those  implicated  in  that  infamous  Plot,  did  obtain 
an  unconditional  Pardon  ?  " 

Lord  Stour  stepped  back  as  if  he  had  been  hit  in 
the  face.  Boundless  Astonishment  was  expressed  in 
the  Gaze  which  he  fixed  upon  the  General,  as  well 
as  wrathful  indignation. 

"  My  Lord !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  that  Question  is  an 
insult!" 

"  Make  me  swallow  mine  own  Words,"  retorted 
His  Grace  imperturbably,  "  by  giving  me  a  straight 
Answer." 

"  Mine  Answer  must  be  straight,"  rejoined  Lord 
Stour  firmly,  "  since  it  is  based  on  Truth.  I  do 
not  know." 

The  Duke  shrugged  his  Shoulders,  and  there  came 
a  sarcastic  laugh  from  more  than  one  of  the  Gentle- 
men there. 

"  I  give  your  Lordship  my  Word  of  Honour," 
Lord  Stour  insisted  haughtily.  Then,  as  His  Grace 
remained  silent,  with  those  deep-set  eyes  of  his  fixed 
searchingly  upon  the  young  Man,  the  latter  added 
vehemently:  "Is  then  mine  Honour  in  question?" 

Whereupon  Mr.  Betterton,  who  hitherto  had  re- 
mained silent,  interposed  very  quietly : 


POISONED  ARROWS  223 

"  The  honour  of  some  Gentlemen,  my  Lord,  is 
like  the  Manifestation  of  Ghosts — much  talked  of 
.  .  .  but  always  difficult  to  prove !  " 

You  know  his  Voice,  dear  Mistress,  and  that 
subtle  carrying  Power  which  it  has,  although  he 
never  seems  to  raise  it.  After  he  had  spoken  You 
could  have  heard  the  stirring  of  every  little  twig  in 
the  trees  above  us,  for  no  one  said  another  Word 
for  a  moment  or  two.  We  all  stood  there,  a  com- 
pact little  Group:  Lord  Stour  facing  the  Duke  of 
Albemarle  and  Mr.  Betterton  standing  a  step  or  two 
behind  His  Grace,  his  fine,  expressive  Face  set  in  a 
mask  of  cruel  Irony.  Sir  William  Davenant  and 
the  other  Gentlemen  had  closed  in  around  those 
three.  They  must  have  felt  that  some  strange  Storm 
of  Passions  was  brewing,  and  instinctively  they  tried 
to  hide  its  lowering  Clouds  from  public  gaze. 

Fortunately  there  were  not  many  Passers-by  just 
then,  and  the  little  Scene  remained  unnoted  by  the 
idly  curious,  who  are  ever  wont  to  collect  in  Crowds 
whenever  anything  strange  to  them  happens  to  at- 
tract their  Attention. 

My  Lord  Stour  was  the  first  to  recover  Speech. 
He  turned  on  Mr.  Betterton  with  unbridled 
Fury. 

"  What !  "  he  cried,  "  another  sting  from  that 
venomous  Wasp?  I  might  have  guessed  that  so 
miserable  a  Calumny  came  from  such  a  vile  Caitiff 
as  this!". 

"  Abuse  is  not  Explanation,  my  Lord,"  interposed 
the  Duke  of  Albemarle  firmly.  "And  I  must 


224     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

remind  you  that  you  have  left  my  Question  un- 
answered." 

"  Put  it  more  intelligibly,  my  Lord,"  retoated 
Lord  Stour  haughtily.  "  I  might  then  know  how 
to  reply." 

"  Very  well,"  riposted  His  Grace,  still  apparently 
unmoved.  "  I  will  put  it  differently.  I  understand 
that  your  Associates  entrusted  their  treasonable 
Manifestos  to  you.  Is  that  a  fact?  " 

"  I'll  not  deny  it." 

"  You  cannot,"  rejoined  the  Duke  drily.  "  Sir 
James  Campsfield,  in  the  course  of  his  Trial,  ad- 
mitted that  he  had  received  his  Summons  through 
You.  But  a  Copy  of  that  Manifesto  came  into  the 
hands  of  my  Lady  Castlemaine  just  in  time  to  cause 
the  Conspiracy  to  abort  How  was  that?  " 

"  Some  Traitor,"  replied  Lord  Stour  hotly,  "  of 
whom  I  have  no  Cognizance." 

"  Yet  it  was  You,"  riposted  the  General  quietly, 
"  who  received  a  free  Pardon  ...  no  one  else. 
How  was  that?"  he  reiterated  more  sternly. 

"  I  have  sworn  to  You  that  I  do  not  know,"  pro- 
tested my  Lord  Stour  fiercely. 

He  looked  now  like  a  Man  at  Bay,  trapped  in  a 
Net  which  was  closing  in  around  him  and  from 
which  he  was  striving  desperately  to  escape.  His 
face  was  flushed,  his  eyes  glowed  with  an  unnatural 
fire.  And  always  his  restless  gaze  came  back  to 
Mr.  Betterton,  who  stood  by,  calm  and  impassive, 
apparently  disinterested  in  this  Colloquy  wherein  a 
man's  Honour  was  being  tossed  about  to  the  Winds 


POISONED  ARROWS  225 

of  Slander  and  of  Infamy.  Now  Lord  Stour  gazed 
around  him,  striving  to  find  one  line  of  genuine 
Sympathy  on  the  stern  Faces  which  were  confront- 
ing him. 

"  My  word  of  Honour,  Gentlemen,"  he  exclaimed 
with  passionate  Earnestness,  "  that  I  do  not  know." 

Honestly,  I  think  that  one  or  two  of  them  did 
feel  for  him  and  were  inclined  to  give  him  Credence. 
After  all,  these  young  Fops  are  not  wicked;  they 
are  only  mischievous,  as  Children  or  young  Puppies 
are  wont  to  be,  ready  to  snarl  at  one  another,  to 
yap  and  to  tear  to  pieces  anything  that  happens  to 
come  in  their  way.  Moreover,  there  was  the  great 
bond  of  Caste  between  these  People.  They  were, 
in  their  innermost  Hearts,  loth  to  believe  that  one 
of  themselves — a  Gentleman,  one  bearing  a  great 
Name — could  be  guilty  of  this  type  of  foul  Crime 
which  was  more  easily  attributable  to  a  Plebeian. 
It  was  only  their  Love  of  Scandal-monging  and  of 
Backbiting  that  had  kept  the  Story  alive  all  these 
weeks.  Even  now  there  were  one  or  two  sympa- 
thetic Murmurs  amongst  those  present  when  my 
Lord  Stour  swore  by  his  Honour. 

But  just  then  Mr.  Betterton's  voice  was  heard 
quite  distinctly  above  that  Murmur : 

"  Honour  is  a  strangely  difficult  word  to  pro- 
nounce on  the  Stage,"  he  was  saying  to  Sir  William 
Davenant,  apparently  a  propos  of  something  the 
latter  had. remarked  just  before.  "You  try  and 
say  it,  Davenant;  you  will  see  how  it  always  dislo- 
cates your  Jaw,  yet  produces  no  effect." 


226      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"Therefore,  Mr.  Actor,"  Lord  Stour  broke  in 
roughly,  "  it  should  only  be  spoken  by  those  who 
have  a  glorious  Ancestry  behind  them  to  teach  them 
its  true  Significance." 

"  Well  spoken,  my  Lord,"  Mr.  Betterton  rejoined 
placidly.  "  But  you  must  remember  that  but  few 
of  His  Majesty's  Servants  have  a  line  of  glorious 
Ancestry  behind  them.  In  that  way  they  differ  from 
many  Gentlemen  who,  having  nothing  but  their  An- 
cestry to  boast  of,  are  very  like  a  Turnip — the  best 
of  them  is  under  the  ground." 

This  Sally  was  greeted  with  loud  Laughter,  and 
by  a  subtle  process  which  I  could  not  possibly  define, 
the  wave  of  Sympathy  which  was  setting  in  the 
direction  of  my  Lord  Stour,  once  more  receded 
from  him,  leaving  him  wrathful  and  obstinate,  His 
Grace  of  Albemarle  stern,  and  the  young  Fops 
flippant  and  long-tongued  as  before. 

"  My  Lord  Stour,"  the  General  now  broke  in  once 
more  firmly,  "  'tis  You  sought  this  Explanation,  not 
I.  Now  You  have  left  my  Question  unanswered. 
Your  Friends  entrusted  their  Manifestos  to  You. 
How  came  one  of  these  in  Lady  Castlemaine's 
hands?" 

And  the  young  Man,  driven  to  bay,  facing  half 
a  dozen  pairs  of  eyes  that  held  both  Contempt  and 
Enmity  in  their  glance,  reiterated  hoarsely : 

"  I  have  sworn  to  You  that  I  do  not  know." 
Then  he  added :  "  Hath  Loyalty  then  left  this  un- 
fortunate Land,  that  You  can  all  believe  such  a  vile 
thing  of  me  ?  " 


POISONED  ARROWS  227 

And  in  the  silence  that  ensued,  Mr.  Betterton's 
perfectly  modulated  Voice  was  again  raised  in 
quietly  sarcastic  accents: 

"  As  You  say,  my  Lord,"  he  remarked.  "  Loyalty 
hath  left  this  unfortunate  Country.  Perhaps,"  he 
added  with  a  light  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  "  to  take 
Refuge  with  your  glorious  Ancestry." 

This  last  Gibe,  however,  brought  my  Lord  Stour's 
exasperation  to  a  raging  Fury.  Pushing  uncere- 
moniously past  His  Grace  of  Albemarle,  who  stood 
before  him,  he  took  a  step  forward  and  confronted 
Mr.  Betterton  eye  to  eye  and,  drawing  himself  up 
to  his  full  Height,  he  literally  glowered  down  upon 
the  great  Artist,  who  stood  his  Ground,  placid  and 
unmoved. 

"  Insolent  Varlet !  "  came  in  raucous  tones  from 
the  young  Lord's  quivering  lips.  "  If  you  had  a 
spark  of  chivalry  or  of  honour  in  You " 

At  the  arrogant  Insult  every  one  drew  their 
breath.  A  keen  Excitement  flashed  in  every  eye. 
Here  was  at  last  a  Quarrel,  one  that  must  end  in 
bloodshed.  Just  what  was  required — so  thought 
these  young  Rakes,  I  feel  sure — to  clear  the  At- 
mosphere and  to  bring  abstruse  questions  of  Suspi- 
cion and  of  Honour  to  a  level  which  they  could  all 
of  them  understand.  Only  the  Duke  of  Albemarle, 
who,  like  a  true  and  great  Soldier,  hath  the  greatest 
possible  Abhorrence  for  the  gentlemanly  Pastime 
of  Duelling,  tried  to  interpose.  But  Mr.  Betterton, 
having  provoked  the  Quarrel,  required  no  interfer- 
ence from  any  one.  You  know  his  way,  dear  Mis- 


228      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

tress,  as  well  as  I  do — that  quiet  Attitude  which  he 
is  wont  to  assume,  that  fraction  of  a  second's  abso- 
lute Silence  just  before  he  begins  to  speak.  I  know 
of  no  Elocutionist's  trick  more  telling  than  that.  It 
seems  to  rivet  the  Attention,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  key  up  Excitement  and  Curiosity  to  its  greatest 
strain. 

"  By  your  leave,  my  Lord,"  he  said  slowly,  and 
his  splendid  Voice  rose  just  to  a  sufficient  pitch  of 
Loudness  to  be  distinctly  heard  by  those  immediately 
near  him,  but  not  one  yard  beyond.  "  By  your 
leave,  let  us  leave  the  word  '  honour '  out  of  our 
talk.  It  hath  become  ridiculous  and  obsolete,  now 
that  every  Traitor  doth  use  it  for  his  own  ends." 

But  in  truth  my  Lord  Stour  now  was  beside  him- 
self with  Fury. 

"  By  gad ! "  he  exclaimed  with  a  harsh  laugh. 
"  I  might  have  guessed  that  it  was  your  pestilential 
Tongue  which  stirred  up  this  Treason  against  me. 
Liar ! — Scoundrel ! " 

He  was  for  heaping  up  one  Insult  upon  the  other, 
lashing  himself  as  it  were  into  greater  Fury  still, 
when  Mr.  Betterton's  quietly  ironical  laugh  broke 
in  upon  his  senseless  ebullitions. 

"  Liar  ? — Scoundrel,  am  I  ?  "  he  said  lightly,  and, 
still  laughing,  he  turned  to  the  Gentlemen  who  stood 
beside  him.  "Nay!  if  the  sight  of  a  Scoundrel 
offends  his  Lordship,  he  should  shut  himself  up  in 
his  own  Room  .  .  .  and  break  his  Mirror !  " 

At  this,  my  Lord  Stour  lost  the  last  vestige  of  his 
self-control,  seized  Mr.  Betterton  by  the  Shoulder 


POISONED  ARROWS  229 

and  verily,  I  thought,  made  as  if  he  would  strike 
him. 

"  You  shall  pay  for  this  Insolence ! "  he  cried. 

But  already,  with  perfect  sang-froid,  the  great 
Artist  had  arrested  his  Lordship's  uplifted  hand  and 
wrenched  it  away  from  his  shoulder. 

"  By  you  leave,  my  Lord,"  he  said,  and  with 
delicate  Fingers  flicked  the  dust  from  off  his  coat. 
"  This  coat  was  fashioned  by  an  honest  tailor,  and 
hath  never  been  touched  by  a  Traitor's  hand." 

I  thought  then  that  I  could  see  Murder  writ 
plainly  on  My  Lord's  face,  which  was  suddenly 
become  positively  livid.  The  Excitement  around  us 
was  immense.  In  truth  I  am  convinced  that  every 
Gentleman  there  present  at  the  moment,  felt  that 
something  more  deep  and  more  intensely  bitter  lay 
at  the  Root  of  this  Quarrel,  between  the  young 
Lord  and  the  great  and  popular  Artist.  Even  now 
some  of  them  would  have  liked  to  interfere,  whilst 
the  younger  ones  undoubtedly  enjoyed  the  Spectacle 
and  were  laying,  I  doubt  not,  imaginary  Wagers  as 
to  which  of  the  two  Disputants  would  remain  Mas- 
ter of  the  Situation. 

His  Grace  of  Albemarle  tried  once  more  to  inter- 
pose with  all  the  Authority  of  his  years  and  of  his 
distinguished  Position,  for  indeed  there  was  some- 
thing almost  awesome  in  Lord  Stour's  Wrath  by 
now.  But  Mr.  Betterton  took  the  Words  at  once 
out  of  the  great  General's  mouth. 

"  Nay,  my  Lord,"  he  said  with  quiet  Firmness, 
"  I  pray  You,  do  not  interfere.  I  am  in  no  danger, 


230     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

I  assure  You.  My  Lord  Stour  would  wish  to  kill 
me,  no  doubt.  But,  believe  me,  Fate  did  not  ordain 
that  Tom  Betterton  should  die  by  such  a  hand 
.  .  .  the  fickle  Jade  hath  too  keen  a  Sense  of 
Humour." 

Whereupon  he  made  a  movement,  as  if  to  walk 
away.  I  felt  the  drag  upon  my  arm  where  his 
slender  hand  was  still  resting.  The  Others  were 
silent.  What  could  they  say  ?  Senseless  Numskulls 
though  they  were  for  the  most  part,  they  had  enough 
Perception  to  realize  that  between  these  two  Men 
there  was  Hatred  so  bitter  that  no  mere  Gentle- 
manly Bloodshed  could  ever  wipe  it  away. 

But  ere  Mr.  Betterton  finally  turned  to  go,  my 
Lord  of  Stour  stepped  out  in  front  of  him.  All  the 
Rage  appeared  to  have  died  out  of  him.  He  was 
outwardly  quite  calm,  only  a  weird  twitching  of  his 
lips  testified  to  the  Storm  of  Passion  which  he  had 
momentarily  succeeded  in  keeping  under  control. 

"  Mr.  Actor,"  he  said  slowly,  "  but  a  few  Weeks 
ago  You  asked  me  to  cross  words  with  You.  .  .  . 
I  refused  then,  for  up  to  this  hour  I  have  never 
fought  a  Duel  save  with  an  Equal.  But  now,  I 
accept,"  he  added  forcefully,  even  while  the  Words 
came  veiled  and  husky  from  his  throat.  "  I  accept. 
Do  You  hear  me?  .  .  .for  the  laws  of  England 
do  not  permit  a  Murder,  and  as  sure  as  there's  a 
Heaven  above  me,  I  am  going  to  kill  You." 

Mr.  Betterton  listened  to  him  until  the  end.  You 
know  that  Power  which  he  hath  of  seeming  to  tower 
above  every  one  who  stands  nigh  him?  Well!  he 
exercised  that  Power  now.  He  stepped  quite  close 


POISONED  ARROWS  231 

to  my  Lord  Stour,  and  though  the  latter  is  of  more 
than  average  height,  Mr.  Betterton  literally  ap- 
peared to  soar  above  him,  with  the  sublime  Mag- 
nificence of  an  outraged  Man  coming  into  his  own 
at  last. 

"  My  Lord  of  Stour,"  he  said,  with  perfect 
quietude,  "  a  few  weeks  ago  you  insulted  me  as 
Man  never  dared  to  insult  Man  before.  With  every 
blow  dealt  upon  my  shoulders  by  your  Lacqueys, 
You  outraged  the  Majesty  of  Genius  .  .  .  yes! 
its  Majesty!  .  .  .  its  Godhead!  .  .  .  You  raised 
your  insolent  hand  against  me — against  me,  the 
Artist,  whom  God  Himself  hath  crowned  with  Im- 
mortality. For  a  moment  then,  my  outraged  Man- 
hood clamoured  for  satisfaction.  I  asked  You  to 
cross  swords  with  me,  for  You  seemed  to  me  ... 
then  .  .  .  worthy  of  that  Honour.  But  to-day, 
my  Lord  of  Stour,"  he  continued,  whilst  every 
Word  he  spoke  seemed  to  strike  upon  the  ear  like 
Blows  from  a  relentless  Hammer ;  "  Traitor  to  your 
Friends,  Liar  and  Informer!  !  !  !  Bah!  His 
Majesty's  Well-Beloved  Servant  cannot  fight  with 
such  as  You !  " 

In  truth  I  do  not  remember  what  happened  after 
that.  The  unutterable  Contempt,  the  Disgust,  the 
Loathing  expressed  in  my  Friend's  whole  Attitude, 
seemed  to  hit  even  me  between  the  eyes.  I  felt  as  if 
some  giant  Hands  had  thrown  a  kind  of  filmy  grey 
veil  over  my  Head,  for  I  heard  and  saw  nothing 
save  a  blurred  and  dim  Vision  of  uplifted  Arms,  of 
clenched  Fists  and  of  a  general  Scrimmage,  of  which 
my  Lord  Stour  appeared  to  be  the  Centre,  whilst 


232     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

my  ears  only  caught  the  veiled  Echo  of  Words  flung 
hoarsely  into  the  air : 

"  Let  me  go !  Let  me  go !  I  must  kill  him !  I 
must!" 

Mr.  Betterton,  on  the  other  hand,  remained  per- 
fectly calm.  I  felt  a  slight  pressure  on  my  arm  and 
presently  realized  that  he  and  I  had  turned  and  were 
walking  away  down  the  Avenue  of  the  Park,  and 
leaving  some  way  already  behind  us,  a  seething  mass 
of  excited  Gentlemen,  all  intent  on  preventing  Mur- 
der being  committed  then  and  there. 

What  the  outcome  of  it  all  would  be,  I  could  not 
visualize.  Mr.  Betterton  had  indeed  been  able  to 
give  Insult  for  Insult  and  Outrage  for  Outrage  at 
last.  For  this  he  had  schemed  and  worked  and 
planned  all  these  weeks.  Whether  God  and  Justice 
were  on  his  side  in  this  terrible  Revenge,  I  dared 
not  ask  myself,  nor  yet  if  the  Weapon  which  he  had 
chosen  were  worthy  of  his  noble  Character  and  of 
his  Integrity.  That  public  Opinion  was  on  his  side, 
I  concluded  from  the  fact  that  the  Duke  of  Albe- 
marle  and  Sir  William  Davenant  both  walked  a  few 
yards  with  him  after  he  had  turned  his  back  on  my 
Lord,  and  that  His  Grace  constituting  himself 
Spokesman  for  himself  and  Sir  William,  offered 
their  joint  Services  to  Mr.  Betterton  in  case  he 
changed  his  mind  and  agreed  to  fight  my  Lord  Stour 
in  duel. 

"  I  thank  your  Grace,"  was  Mr.  Betterton's 
courteous  reply ;  "  but  I  am  not  like  to  change  my 
Mind  on  that  Score." 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  LADY  PLEADS 


I  am  not  able  quite  to  determine  in  my  own  mind 
whether  the  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode  did  hear  and 
see  something  of  the  violent  Scene  which  I  have 
just  attempted  to  describe. 

I  told  You,  dear  Mistress,  that  fortunately  for 
us  all,  this  part  of  the  Park  where  the  Scene  oc- 
curred was  for  the  moment  practically  deserted.  At 
any  rate,  no  Crowd  collected  around  us,  for  which, 
methinks,  we  were,  every  one  of  us,  thankful.  If 
a  few  of  the  Passers-by  heard  anything  of  the  alter- 
cation, they  merely  hurried  past,  thinking  no  doubt, 
that  it  was  only  one  or  two  young  City  Sparks,  none 
too  sober  even  at  this  morning  hour,  who  were  quar- 
relling among  themselves. 

When  we  walked  away  down  the  Avenue  which 
leads  in  the  direction  of  Knight's  Bridge,  Mr.  Bet- 
terton's  well-known,  elegant  figure  was  remarked 
by  a  few  Pedestrians  on  their  way  to  and  fro,  as 
was  also  the  familiar  one  of  the  Duke  of  Albemarle, 
and  some  People  raised  their  hats  to  the  great  Artist, 
whilst  others  saluted  the  distinguished  General. 

Presently  His  Grace  and  Sir  William  Davenant 
took  leave  of  Mr.  Betterton,  and  a  few  moments 

333 


234      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

later  the  latter  suggested  that  we  should  also  begin 
to  wend  our  way  homewards. 

We  retraced  our  steps  and  turned  back  in  the 
direction  of  Westminster.  Mr.  Betterton  was 
silent;  he  walked  quite  calmly,  with  head  bent  and 
firm  footsteps,  and  I,  knowing  his  humour,  walked 
along  in  silence  by  his  side. 

Then  suddenly  we  came  upon  the  Lady  Barbara. 

That  she  had  sought  this  meeting  I  could  not 
doubt  for  a  moment.  Else,  how  should  a  Lady  of 
her  Rank  and  Distinction  be  abroad,  and  in  a  public 
Park,  unattended?  Indeed,  I  was  quite  sure  that 
she  had  only  dismissed  her  maid  when  she  saw  Mr. 
Betterton  coming  along,  and  that  the  Wench  was 
lurking  somewhere  behind  one  of  the  shrubberies, 
ready  to  accompany  her  Ladyship  home  when  the 
interview  was  at  an  end. 

I  said  that  I  am  even  now  doubtful  as  to  whether 
the  Lady  Barbara  saw  and  heard  something  of  the 
violent  Altercation  which  had  taken  place  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  ago  between  her  Lover  and  the  great 
Actor.  If  not,  she  certainly  displayed  on  that  occa- 
sion that  marvellous  intuition  which  is  said  to  be 
the  prerogative  of  every  Woman  when  she  is  in 
love. 

She  was  walking  on  the  further  side  of  Rosa- 
mond Pond  when  first  I  caught  sight  of  her,  and 
when  she  reached  the  Bridge,  she  came  deliberately 
to  a  halt.  There  is  no  other  way  across  the  Pond 
save  by  the  Bridge,  so  Mr.  Betterton  could  not  have 
escaped  the  meeting  even  if  he  would.  Seeing  the 
Lady,  he  raised  his  hat  and  made  a  deep  bow  of 


THE  LADY  PLEADS  235 

respectful  salutation.    He  then  crossed  the  Bridge 
and  made  as  if  he  would  pass  by,  but  she  held  her 
Ground,  in  the  very  centre  of  the  Path,  and  when 
he  was  quite  near  her,  she  said  abruptly : 
"  Mr.  Betterton,  I  desire  a  word  with  you." 
He  came  at  once  to  a  halt,  and  replied  with  per- 
fect deference : 

"  I  await  your  Ladyship's  commands." 


I  was  for  hurrying  away,  thinking  that  my  Pres- 
ence would  be  irksome  both  to  the  Lady  and  to  my 
Friend;  but  an  unmistakable  pressure  of  Mr.  Bet- 
terton's  hand  on  my  arm  caused  me  to  stay  where 
I  was.  As  for  the  Lady,  she  appeared  not  to  care 
whether  I  stayed  or  went,  for  immediately  she 
retorted : 

"  My  commands,  Sir  Actor  ?  They  are,  that  you 
at  once  and  completely  do  Reparation  for  the  wrong 
which  you  are  trying  to  do  to  an  innocent  Man." 

She  looked  proud  and  commanding  as  a  Queen, 
looking  through  the  veil  of  her  lashes  at  Mr.  Bet- 
terton as  if  he  were  a  supplicating  Slave  rather  than 
the  great  Artist  whom  cultured  Europe  delighted  to 
honour.  Never  did  I  admire  my  Friend  so  much 
as  I  did  then.  His  self-possession  was  perfect:  his 
attitude  just  the  right  balance  'twixt  deference  due 
to  a  beautiful  Woman  and  the  self-assurance  which 
comes  of  conscious  Worth.  He  looked  splendid, 
too — dressed  in  the  latest  fashion  and  with  unerring 
taste.  The  fantastic  cut  of  his  modish  clothes  be- 


236     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

came  his  artistic  Personality  to  perfection :  the  soft 
shade  of  mulberry  of  which  his  coat  was  fashioned 
made  an  harmonious  note  of  colour  in  the  soft  grey 
mist  of  this  late  winter's  morning.  The  lace  at  his 
throat  and  wrists  was  of  unspeakable  value,  filmy 
and  gossamer-like  in  texture  as  a  cobweb;  and  in 
his  cravat  glittered  a  diamond,  a  priceless  gift  to  the 
great  English  Artist  from  the  King  of  France. 

Indeed,  the  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode  might 
look  the  world-famous  Actor  up  and  down  with 
well-studied  superciliousness;  she  might  issue  her 
commands  to  him  as  if  she  were  his  royal  Mistress 
and  he  but  a  Menial  set  there  to  obey  her  behest; 
but,  whatever  she  did,  she  could  not  dwarf  his  Per- 
sonality. He  had  become  too  great  for  disdain  or 
sneers  ever  to  touch  him  again;  and  the  shafts  of 
scorn  aimed  at  him  by  those  who  would  set  mere 
Birth  above  the  claims  of  Genius,  would  only  find 
their  points  broken  or  blunted  against  the  impene- 
trable armour  of  his  Glory  and  his  Fame. 

For  the  nonce,  I  think  that  he  was  ready  enough 
to  parley  with  the  Lady  Barbara.  He  had  not  to 
my  knowledge  spoken  with  her  since  that  never 
forgotten  day  last  September;  and  I,  not  under- 
standing the  complex  workings  of  an  Artist's  heart, 
knew  not  if  his  Love  for  her  had  outlived  the  crying 
outrage,  or  had  since  then  turned  to  Hate. 

In  answer  to  her  peremptory  command,  he  as- 
sumed an  air  of  innocent  surprise. 

"  I  ?  "  he  queried.  "  Your  Ladyship  is  pleased  to 
speak  in -riddles." 


THE  LADY  PLEADS  237 

"  Nay !  "  she  retorted.  "  Tis  you,  Sir,  who 
choose  not  to  understand.  But  I'll  speak  more 
plainly,  an  you  wish.  I  am  a  woman,  Mr.  Actor, 
and  I  love  the  Earl  of  Stour.  Now,  you  know  just 
as  well  as  I  do,  that  his  Lordship's  honour  has  of 
late  been  impugned  in  a  manner  that  is  most  mys- 
terious. His  Friends  accuse  him  of  treachery;  even 
mere  Acquaintances  prefer  to  give  him  the  cold 
shoulder.  And  this  without  any  definite  Indictment 
being  levelled  against  him.  Many  there  are  who 
will  tell  You  that  they  have  not  the  faintest  con- 
ception of  what  crime  my  Lord  Stour  stands  ac- 
cused. Others  aver  that  they'll  not  believe  any 
Slander  that  may  be  levelled  against  so  high-souled 
a  Gentleman.  Nevertheless,  the  Slander  continues. 
Nay!  it  gathers  volume  as  it  worms  its  way  from 
one  house  to  another,  shedding  poison  in  its  wake 
as  it  drifts  by;  and  more  and  more  People  now 
affect  to  look  another  way  when  the  Earl  of  Stour 
comes  nigh  them,  and  to  be  otherwise  engaged  when 
he  desires  to  shake  them  by  the  hand." 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  obviously  to  regain  her 
Composure,  which  was  threatening  to  leave  her. 
Her  cheeks  were  pale  as  ashes,  her  breath  came  and 
went  in  quick,  short  gasps.  The  Picture  which  she 
herself  had  drawn  of  her  Lover's  plight  caused  her 
heart  to  ache  with  bitterness.  She  seemed  for  the 
moment  to  expect  something — a  mere  comment, 
perhaps,  or  a  word  of  Sympathy,  from  Mr.  Better- 
ton.  But  none  came.  He  stood  there,  silent  and 
deferential,  with  lips  firmly  set,  his  slender  Hand 


238      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

clutched  upon  the  gold  knob  of  his  stick,  till  the 
knuckles  shone  creamy-white,  like  ivory.  He  re- 
garded her  with  an  air  of  Detachment  rather  than 
Sympathy,  and  though  by  her  silence  she  appeared 
to  challenge  him  now,  he  did  not  speak,  and  after 
awhile  she  resumed  more  calmly : 

"  My  Lord  of  Stour  himself  is  at  his  wits'  ends 
to  interpret  the  attitude  of  his  Friends.  Nothing 
tangible  in  the  way  of  a  spoken  Calumny  hath  as 
yet  reached  his  ears.  And  his  life  has  been  rendered 
all  the  more  bitter  that  he  feels  that  he  is  being 
struck  by  a  persistent  but  mysterious  Foe  in  what 
he  holds  dearer  than  aught  else  on  earth,  his  Integ- 
rity and  his  Honour." 

"  'Tis  a  sad  case,"  here  rejoined  Mr.  Betterton, 
for  her  Ladyship  had  paused  once  more.  "  But,  by 
your  leave,  I  do  not  see  in  what  way  it  concerns 
me." 

"Nay!  but  I  think  you  do,  Sir  Actor,"  Lady 
Barbara  riposted  harshly.  "  Love  and  Hate,  re- 
member, see  clearly  where  mere  Friendship  and 
Indifference  are  blind.  Love  tells  me  that  the  Earl 
of  Stour's  Integrity  is  Unstained,  his  Honour  un- 
sullied. But  the  Hatred  which  you  bear  him," 
added  her  Ladyship  almost  fiercely,  "  makes  me  look 
to  You  for  the  cause  of  his  Disgrace." 

No  one,  however,  could  have  looked  more  utterly 
astonished,  more  bland  and  uncomprehending,  as 
Mr.  Betterton  did  at  that  moment.  He  put  up  his 
hand  and  regarded  the  Lady  with  an  indulgent 
smile,  such  as  one  would  bestow  on  a  hot-headed 
Child. 


THE  LADY  PLEADS  239 

"  Nay,  your  Ladyship ! "  he  said  courteously. 
"  I  fear  that  you  are  attributing  to  an  humble 
Mountebank  a  power  he  doth  not  possess.  To  dis- 
grace a  noble  Gentleman  ?  "  he  exclaimed  with  well- 
feigned  horror.  "  I  ? — a  miserable  Varlet — an  in- 
solent cur  whom  one  thrashes  if  he  dares  to  bark !  " 

"  Ah !  "  she  broke  in,  with  a  swift  exclamation. 
"  Then  I  have  guessed  the  truth !  This  is  your 
Revenge ! " 

"  Revenge?  "  he  queried  blandly.    "  For  what?  " 

"You  hate  the  Earl  of  Stour,"  she  retorted. 

Once  more  his  well-shaped  hand  went  up,  as  if  in 
gentle  protest,  and  he  uttered  a  kind  and  deprecat- 
ing "Oh!" 

"You  look  upon  the  Earl  of  Stour  as  your 
enemy !  "  she  insisted. 

"  I  have  so  many,  your  Ladyship,"  he  riposted 
with  a  smile. 

"  'Twas  you  who  obtained  his  Pardon  from  my 
Lady  Castlemaine." 

"  The  inference  is  scarcely  logical,"  he  retorted. 
"  A  man  does  not  as  a  rule  sue  for  pardon  for  his 
Enemy." 

"  I  think,"  she  rejoined  slowly,  "  that  in  this  case 
Mr.  Betterton  did  the  illogical  thing." 

"  Then  I  do  entreat  your  Ladyship,"  he  pro- 
tested with  mock  terror,  "  not  to  repeat  this  cal- 
umny. I,  accused  of  a  noble  action!  Tom  Better- 
ton  pardoning  his  Enemies!  Why,  my  friends 
might  believe  it,  and  it  is  so  difficult  these  days  to 
live  down  a  good  Reputation." 

"  You  choose  to  sharpen  your  wit  at  my  expense, 


240     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Sir  Actor,"  the  lady  rejoined  with  her  former 
haughtiness,  "  and  to  evade  the  point." 

"  What  is  the  point,  your  Ladyship  ?  "  he  queried 
blandly. 

"  That  you  set  an  end  to  all  these  Calumnies 
which  are  levelled  against  the  Earl  of  Stour." 

"How  can  we  stay  the  Sun  in  his  orbit?"  he 
retorted ;  "  or  the  Stars  in  their  course  ?  " 

"  You  mean  that  your  Campaign  of  Slander  has 
already  gone  too  far?  But  remember  this,  Mr. 
Betterton :  that  poisoned  darts  sometimes  wound  the 
hand  that  throws  them.  You  may  pursue  the  Earl 
of  Stour  with  your  Hatred  and  your  Calumnies, 
but  God  will  never  allow  an  innocent  Man  to  suffer 
unjustly." 

Just  for  a  few  seconds  Mr.  Betterton  was  silent. 
He  was  still  regarding  the  Lady  with  that  same  in- 
dulgent smile  which  appeared  to  irritate  her  nerves. 
To  me,  the  very  air  around  seemed  to  ring  as  if 
with  a  clash  of  ghostly  arms — the  mighty  clash  of 
two  Wills  and  two  Temperaments,  each  fighting  for 
what  it  holds  most  dear :  she  for  the  Man  whom  she 
loved,  he  for  his  Dignity  which  had  been  so  cruelly 
outraged. 

"  God  will  never  allow,"  she  reiterated  with  slow 
emphasis,  "  an  innocent  Man  to  suffer  at  the  hands 
of  a  Slanderer." 

"  Ah !  "  riposted  Mr.  Betterton  suavely.  "  Is 
your  Ladyship  not  reckoning  over-confidently  on 
Divine  interference?  " 

"  I  also  reckon,"  she  retorted,  "  on  His  Majesty's 


THE  LADY  PLEADS  241 

sense  of  justice — and  on  the  Countess  of  Castle- 
maine,  who  must  know  the  truth  of  the  affair." 

"  His  Majesty's  senses  are  very  elusive,"  he  re- 
joined drily,  "  and  are  apt  to  play  him  some  way- 
ward tricks  when  under  the  influence  of  the  Coun- 
tess of  Castlemaine.  The  Earl  of  Stour,  it  seems, 
disdained  the  favours  which  that  Lady  was  willing 
to  bestow  on  him.  He  preferred  the  superior 
charms  and  intellect  of  the  Lady  Barbara  Wych- 
woode.  A  very  natural  preference,  of  course,"  he 
added,  with  elaborate  gallantry.  "  But  I  can  assure 
your  Ladyship  that,  as  Helpmeets  to  heavenly  In- 
terference, neither  His  Majesty  nor  the  Countess 
of  Castlemaine  are  to  be  reckoned  with." 

She  bit  her  lip  and  cast  her  eyes  to  the  ground. 
I  could  see  that  her  lovely  face  expressed  acute  dis- 
appointment and  that  she  was  on  the  verge  of  tears. 
I  am  not  versed  in  the  ways  of  gentle  Folk  nor  yet 
in  those  of  Artists,  but  I  could  have  told  the  Lady 
Barbara  Wychwoode  that  if  she  wanted  to  obtain 
Sympathy  or  Leniency  from  Mr.  Betterton,  she  had 
gone  quite  the  wrong  way  to  work. 

Even  now,  I  think  if  she  had  started  to  plead 
.  .  .  but  the  thought  of  humbling  herself  before 
a  Man  whom  she  affected  to  despise  was  as  far 
from  this  proud  Woman's  heart,  as  are  thoughts 
of  self-glorification  from  mine. 

A  second  or  two  later  she  had  succeeded  in  forc- 
ing back  the  tears  which  had  welled  to  her  eyes, 
and  she  was  able  once  more  to  look  her  Adversary 
straight  in  the  face. 


242     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  And  will  you  tell  me,  Sir  Actor,"  she  queried 
with  cold  aloofness,  "  how  far  you  intend  to  carry 
on  this  Infamy?  " 

And  Mr.  Betterton  replied,  equally  coldly  and 
deliberately : 

"  To  the  uttermost  limits  of  the  Kingdom, 
Madam." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  riposted. 

He  drew  a  step  or  two  nearer  to  her.  His  face 
too  was  pale  by  now,  his  lips  trembling,  his  eyes 
aglow  with  Passion  masterfully  kept  under  control. 
His  perfect  voice  rose  and  fell  in  those  modulated 
Cadences  which  we  have  all  learned  to  appreciate. 

"  Only  this,  your  Ladyship,"  he  began  quite 
slowly.  "  For  the  present,  the  History  of  the  Earl 
of  Stour's  treachery  is  only  guessed  at  by  a  few. 
It  is  a  breath  of  Scandal,  born  as  you  say  somewhat 
mysteriously,  wafted  through  Palaces  and  noble 
Mansions  to-day — dead,  mayhap,  to-morrow.  But 
I  have  had  many  opportunities  for  thought  of  late," 
he  continued — and  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  in  his 
quivering  voice  I  could  detect  a  tone  of  Threat  as 
well  as  of  Passion — "  and  have  employed  my  leisure 
moments  in  writing  an  Epilogue  which  I  propose 
to  speak  to-morrow,  after  the  Play,  His  Majesty  and 
all  the  Court  being  present,  and  many  Gentlemen 
and  Ladies  of  high  degree,  as  well  as  Burgesses  and 
Merchants  of  the  City,  and  sundry  Clerks  and  other 
humbler  Folk.  A  comprehensive  Assembly,  what? 
and  an  attentive  one;  for  that  low-born  Mounte- 
bank, Tom  Betterton,  will  be  appearing  in  a  new; 


THE  LADY  PLEADS  243 

play  and  the  Playhouse  will  be  filled  to  the  roof  in 
order  to  do  him  honour.  May  I  hope  that  the  Lady 
Barbara  Wychwoode  herself " 

"A  truce  on  this  foolery,  Sir,"  she  broke  in 
harshly.  "  I  pray  you  come  to  the  point." 

She  tried  to  look  brave  and  still  haughty,  but  I 
knew  that  she  was  afraid — knew  it  by  the  almost 
unearthly  pallor  of  her  skin,  and  the  weird  glitter 
in  her  eyes  as  she  regarded  him,  like  a  Bird  fasci- 
nated by  a  Snake. 

"  The  point  is  the  Epilogue,  my  Lady,"  Mr.  Bet- 
terton  replied  blandly.  "  And  after  I  have  spoken 
it  to-morrow,  I  shall  speak  it  again  and  yet  again, 
until  its  purport  is  known  throughout  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  Land.  The  subject  of  that  Epi- 
logue, Madam,  will  be  the  secret  History  of  a  certain 
aborted  Conspiracy,  and  how  it  was  betrayed  in 
exchange  for  a  free  Pardon  by  one  of  our  noblest 
Gentlemen  in  England.  Then,  I  pray  your  Lady- 
ship to  mark  what  will  happen,"  he  continued,  and 
his  melodious  voice  became  as  hard  and  trenchant  as 
the  clang  of  metal  striking  metal.  "  After  that  Epi- 
logue has  been  spoken  from  the  Stage  half  a  dozen 
times  after  His  Majesty  has  heard  it  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  after  my  Lady  Castlemaine  has 
laughed  over  it  and  my  Lord  of  Rochester  aped  it 
in  one  of  his  Pasquinades,  there  will  be  a  man  whose 
Name  will  be  a  by-word  for  everything  that  is  most 
infamous  and  most  false — a  Name  that  will  be  ban- 
died about  in  Taverns  and  in  drinking  Booths, 
quipped,  decried,  sneered  at,  anathematized;  a 


244      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Name  that  will  be  the  subject  of  every  lampoon  and 
every  scurrilous  rhyme  that  finds  over-ready  pur- 
chasers— a  Name,  in  fact,  that  will  for  ever  be 
whispered  with  bated  breath  or  bandied  about  in  a 
drunken  brawl,  whene'er  there  is  talk  of  treachery 
and  of  dishonour! " 

At  this,  she — great  Lady  to  her  finger  tips — 
threw  up  her  head  proudly,  still  defying  him,  still 
striving  to  hide  her  Fears  and  unwilling  to  acknowl- 
edge Defeat. 

"  It  will  be  your  Word  against  his,"  she  said  with 
a  disdainful  curl  of  her  perfect  lips.  "  No  one 
would  listen  to  such  calumnies." 

And  he — the  world-famed  Artist — at  least  as 
proud  as  any  high  born  Gentleman  in  the  Land, 
retorted,  equally  haughtily: 

"When  Tom  Betterton  speaks  upon  the  Stage, 
my  Lady,  England  holds  her  breath  and  listens 
spellbound." 

I  would  I  could  render  the  noble  Accent  of  his 
magnificent  Voice  as  he  said  this.  There  was  no 
self-glorification  in  it,  no  idle  boasting;  it  was  the 
accent  of  transcendent  Worth  conscious  of  its 
Power. 

And  it  had  its  effect  upon  the  Lady  Barbara 
Wychwoode.  She  lowered  her  Eyes,  but  not  before 
I  had  perceived  that  they  were  full  of  Tears;  her 
Lips  were  trembling  still,  but  no  longer  with  Dis- 
dain, and  her  hands  suddenly  dropped  to  her  side 
with  a  pathetic  gesture  of  Discouragement  and  of 
Anguish. 


THE  LADY  PLEADS  245 

The  next  moment,  however,  she  was  again  look- 
ing the  great  Actor  fully  in  the  face.  A  change 
had  come  over  her,  quite  suddenly  methought — a 
great  Change,  which  had  softened  her  Mood  and  to 
a  certain  extent  lowered  her  Pride.  Whether  this 
was  the  result  of  Mr.  Betterton's  forceful  Elo- 
quence or  of  her  own  Will-power,  I  could  not  guess; 
but  I  myself  marvelled  at  the  Tone  of  Entreaty 
which  had  crept  into  her  Voice. 

"  You  will  not  speak  such  Falsehoods  in  Public, 
Sir,"  she  said  with  unwonted  softness.  "  You  will 
not  thus  demean  your  Art — the  Art  which  you  love 
and  hold  in  respect.  Oh,  there  must  be  some  No- 
bility in  You !  else  you  were  not  so  talented.  Your 
Soul  must  in  truth  be  filled  with  Sentiments  which 
are  neither  ignoble  nor  base." 

"  Nay ! "  he  exclaimed,  and  this  time  did  not 
strive  to  conceal  the  intense  Bitterness  which,  as 
I  knew  well  enough,  had  eaten  into  his  very  Soul; 
"  but  your  Ladyship  is  pleased  to  forget.  I  am 
ignoble  and  base !  There  cannot  be  Nobility  in  me. 
I  am  only  the  low-born  Lout!  Ask  my  Lord  of 
Stour;  ask  you  Brother!  They  will  tell  you  that  I 
have  no  Feelings,  no  Pride,  no  Manhood — that  I 
am  only  a  despicable  Varlet,  whom  every  Gentleman 
may  mock  and  insult  and  whip  like  a  dog.  To  You 
and  to  your  Caste  alone  belong  Nobility,  Pride  and 
Honour.  Honour!  !  !  " — and  he  broke  into  a  pro- 
longed laugh,  which  would  have  rent  your  Heart  to 
hear — "  Honour !  Your  false  Fetish !  Your  coun- 
terfeit God!  !  Very  well,  then  so  be  it!  !  That 


246     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

very  Honour  which  he  hath  denied  me,  I  will  wrencH 
from  him.  And  since  he  denied  me  Satisfaction  by 
the  Sword,  I  turn  to  my  own  weapon — my  Art — ? 
and  with  it  I  will  exact  from  him  to  the  uttermost 
fraction,  Outrage  for  Outrage — Infamy  for  In- 
famy." 

His  wonderful  Voice  shook,  broke  almost  into  a 
sob  at  last.  I  felt  a  choking  sensation  in  my  Throat 
and  my  Eyes  waxed  hot  with  unshed  Tears.  As  if 
through  a  mist,  I  could  see  the  exquisite  Lady  Bar- 
bara Wychwoode  before  me,  could  see  that  she,  too, 
was  moved,  her  Pride  crushed,  her  Disdain  yielding 
to  involuntary  Sympathy. 

"  But  he  is  innocent ! "  she  pleaded,  with  an  ac- 
cent verging  on  Despair. 

"  And  so  was  I !  "  was  his  calm  retort. 

"He "  she  entreated,  "he  loves  me " 

"  And  so  do  I !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  depth  of 
Passion  which  brought  the  hot  Blood  to  her  pale 
Cheeks.  "/  would  have  given  my  Life  for  one 
Smile  from  your  Lips." 

Whereupon,  womanlike,  she  shifted  her  ground, 
looked  him  straight  between  the  Eyes,  and,  oh!  I 
could  have  blushed  to  see  the  Wiles  she  used  in  order 
to  weaken  his  Resolve. 

"  You  love  me  ?  "  she  queried  softly,  and  there 
was  now  a  tone  of  almost  tender  Reproach  in  her 
Voice.  "  You  love  me !  yet  you  would  drag  the 
Man  who  is  dearer  to  me  than  Life  to  Dishonour 
and  to  Shame.  You  trap  him,  like  a  Fowler  does 
a  Bird,  then  crush  him  with  Falsehoods  and  Cal- 


THE  LADY  PLEADS  247 

tunnies !  No,  no !  "  she  exclaimed — came  a  step 
or  two  nearer  to  him  and  clasped  her  delicate  Hands 
together  in  a  Gesture  that  was  akin  to  Prayer.  "  I'll 
not  believe  it!  You  will  tell  the  Truth,  Mr.  Bet- 
terton,  publicly,  and  clear  him.  .  .  .  You 
will.  .  .  .  You  will!  For  my  sake — since  You 
say  You  love  me." 

But  the  more  eager,  the  more  appealing  she  grew, 
the  calmer  and  more  calculating  did  he  seem.  Now 
it  was  his  turn  to  draw  away  from  Her,  to  measure 
Her,  as  it  were,  with  a  cold,  appraising  Look. 

"  For  Your  sake  ?  "  he  said  with  perfect  quietude, 
almost  as  if  the  matter  had  become  outside  himself. 
I  cannot  quite  explain  the  air  of  detachment  which 
he  assumed — for  it  was  an  assumption,  on  that  I 
would  have  staked  my  Life  at  the  moment.  I,  who 
know  him  so  well,  felt  that  deep  down  within  his 
noble  Heart  there  still  burned  the  fierce  flames  of 
an  ardent  Passion,  but  whether  of  Love  or  Hate, 
I  could  not  then  have  told  You. 

She  had  recoiled  at  the  coolness  of  his  Tone; 
and  he  went  on,  still  speaking  with  that  strange, 
abnormal  Calm : 

"  Yes!  "  he  said  slowly,  "  for  Your  love  I  would 
do  what  You  ask  ...  I  would  forego  that  Feast 
of  Satisfaction,  the  Thought  of  which  hath  alone 
kept  me  sane  these  past  few  months.  .  .  .  Yes! 
for  the  Love  of  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode  I  could 
bring  myself  to  forgive  even  his  Lordship  of  Stour 
for  the  irreparable  wrong  which  he  hath  done  to 
Me.  I  would  restore  to  him  his  Honour,  which 


248     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

now  lies,  a  Forfeit,  in  my  Hands :  for  I  shall  then 
have  taken  Something  from  him  which  he  holds 
well-nigh  as  dear." 

He  paused,  and  met  with  the  same  calm  relent- 
lessness  the  look  of  Horror  and  of  Scorn  wherewith 
she  regarded  him. 

"  For  my  Love?  "  she  exclaimed,  and  once  more 
the  warm  Blood  rushed  up  to  her  face,  flooding  her 
wan  Cheeks,  her  pale  Forehead,  even  her  delicate 
Throat  with  crimson.  "  You  mean  that  I  ?  .  .  .; 
Oh!  .  .  .  what  Infamy!  ...  So,  Mr.  Actor, 
that  was  your  reckoning!"  she  went  on  with  su- 
preme Disdain.  "  It  was  not  the  desire  for  Venge- 
ance that  prompted  You  to  slander  the  Earl  of  Stour, 
but  the  wish  to  entrap  me  into  becoming  your  Wife. 
You  are  not  content  with  Your  Laurels.  You  want 
a  Coat  of  Arms  .  .  .  and  hoped  to  barter  one 
against  Your  Calumnies !  " 

"  Nay,  your  Ladyship !  "  he  rejoined  simply,  "  in 
effect,  I  was  actually  laying  a  Name  famed  through- 
out the  cultured  world  humbly  at  your  feet.  You 
made  an  appeal  to  my  Love  for  You — and  I  laid  a 
test  for  your  Sincerity.  Mine  I  have  placed  beyond 
question,  seeing  that  I  am  prepared  to  drag  my 
Genius  in  the  dust  before  Your  Pride  and  the  Ar- 
rogance of  Your  Caste.  An  Artist  is  a  Slave  of  his 
Sensibilities,  and  I  feel  that  if,  in  the  near  Future, 
I  could  see  a  Vision  of  your  perfect  hand  resting 
content  in  mine,  if,  when  You  pleaded  again  for  my 
Lord  Stour,  You  did  so  as  my  promised  Wife — 
not  his — I  would  do  all  that  You  asked." 


THE  LADY  PLEADS  249 

She  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height  and  glanced 
at  him  with  all  the  Pride  which  awhile  ago  had 
seemed  crushed  beyond  recall. 

"  Sir  Actor,"  she  said  coldly,  "  shame  had  gripped 
me  by  the  throat,  or  I  should  not  have  listened  so 
long  to  such  an  Outrage.  The  Bargain  You  pro- 
pose is  an  Infamy  and  an  Insult." 

And  she  gathered  up  her  Skirts  around  her,  as 
if  their  very  contact  with  the  Soil  on  which  he  trod 
were  a  pollution.  Then  she  half  turned  as  if  ready 
to  go,  cast  a  rapid  glance  at  the  Shrubberies  close 
by,  no  doubt  in  search  of  her  Attendant.  Why  it 
was  that  she  did  not  actually  go,  I  could  not  say, 
but  guessed  that,  mayhap,  she  would  not  vacate  the 
Field  of  Contention  until  quite  sure  that  there  was 
not  a  final  Chance  to  soften  the  Heart  of  the  Enemy. 
She  had  thrown  down  yet  another  Challenge  when 
she  spoke  of  his  proposed  Bargain  as  an  Infamy; 
but  he  took  up  the  Gage  with  the  same  measured 
Calm  as  before. 

"  As  you  will,"  he  said.  "  It  was  in  Your  Lady- 
ship's name  that  the  Earl  of  Stour  put  upon  Me 
the  deadliest  Insult  which  any  Man  hath  ever  put 
on  Man  before.  Since  then,  every  Fibre  within  Me 
has  clamoured  for  Satisfaction.  My  Work  hath 
been  irksome  to  me  ...  I  scarce  could  think 
.  .  .  My  Genius  lay  writhing  in  an  agony  of 
Shame.  But  now  the  hour  is  mine — for  it  I  have 
schemed  and  lied — aye,  lied — like  the  low-born  cur 
You  say  I  am.  A  thousand  Devils  of  Hate  and  of 
Rage  are  unchained  within  me.  I  cannot  grapple 


250     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

with  them  alone.  They  would  only  yield — to  your 
kiss." 

"Oh!"  she  cried  in  uttermost  despair,  "this  is 
horrible!" 

"  Then  let  the  Man  you  love,"  he  rejoined  coldly, 
"  look  to  himself." 

"  Conscious  of  his  Innocence,  my  Lord  Stour  and 
I  defy  you !  " 

"  Ah,  well !  "  he  said  imperturbably,  "  the  Choice 
is  still  with  Your  Ladyship.  Remember  that  I  do 
not  speak  my  Epilogue  until  to-morrow.  When  I 
do,  it  will  be  too  late.  I  have  called  my  Phantasy 
'  The  Comedie  of  Traitors.'  " 

Whereupon  he  bowed  low  before  her,  in  the  most 
approved  Fashion.  But  already  she  was  fleeing  up 
the  path  in  the  direction  of  Westminster.  Soon  her 
graceful  Figure  was  lost  to  our  sight  behind  an  in- 
tervening clump  of  Laurels.  Here  no  doubt  her 
Ladyship's  Attendant  was  waiting  for  her  Mistress, 
for  anon  I  spied  two  figures  hurrying  out  of  the 
Park. 


For  a  long  time  Mr.  Betterton  remained  standing 
just  where  he  was,  one  hand  still  clutching  the  knob 
of  his  Stick,  the  other  thrust  in  the  pocket  of  his 
capacious  Coat.  I  could  not  see  his  Face,  since  his 
Back  was  turned  towards  me,  and  I  did  not  dare 
move  lest  I  should  be  interrupting  his  Meditations. 
But  to  Me,  even  that  Back  was  expressive.  There 
was  a  listlessness,  hardly  a  stoop,  about  it,  so  unlike 


THE  LADY  PLEADS  251 

my  Friend's  usual  firm  and  upright  Carriage.  How 
could  this  be  otherwise,  seeing  what  he  had  just 
gone  through — Emotions  that  would  have  swept 
most  Men  off  their  mental  balance.  Yet  he  kept 
his,  had  never  once  lost  control  of  himself.  He  had 
met  Disdain  with  Disdain  in  the  end,  had  kept  suffi- 
cient control  over  his  Voice  to  discuss  with  absolute 
calm,  that  Bargain  which  the  Lady  Barbara  had 
termed  infamous.  There  had  been  a  detachment 
about  his  final  Ultimatum,  a  "  take  it  or  leave  it " 
air,  which  must  have  been  bitterly  galling  to  the 
proud  Lady  who  had  stooped  to  entreat.  He  was 
holding  the  winning  Hand  and  did  not  choose  to 
yield. 

And  it  was  from  his  attitude  on  that  Day  that  I, 
dear  Mistress,  drew  an  unerring  inference.  Mr. 
Betterton  had  no  Love  for  the  Lady  Barbara,  no 
genuine,  lasting  Affection  such  as,  I  maintain,  he 
has  never  ceased  to  feel  for  You.  Passion  swayed 
him,  because  he  has,  above  all,  that  unexplainable 
artistic  Temperament  which  cannot  be  measured  by 
everyday  Standards.  Pride,  Bitterness,  Vengeful- 
ness — call  it  what  you  will;  but  there  was  not  a 
particle  of  Love  in  it  all.  I  verily  believe  that  his 
chief  Desire,  whilst  he  stood  pondering  there  at  the 
bridgehead,  was  to  humiliate  the  Lady  Barbara 
Wychwoode  by  forcing  her  into  a  Marriage  which 
she  had  affected  to  despise.  He  was  not  waiting  for 
her  with  open,  loving  Arms,  ready  to  take  her  to  his 
Heart,  there  to  teach  her  to  forget  the  Past  in  the 
safe  haven  of  his  Love.  He  was  not  waiting  to  lay 


252     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

his  Service  at  her  feet,  and  to  render  her  happy  as 
the  cherished  Wife  and  Helpmate  of  the  great  Artist 
whom  all  England  delighted  to  honour.  He  was 
only  waiting  to  make  her  feel  that  She  had  been 
subjected  to  his  Will  and  her  former  Lover  brought 
down  to  Humiliation,  through  the  Power  of  the 
miserable  Mountebank  whom  they  had  both  deemed 
less  than  a  Man. 

Thus  meditating,  I  stood  close  to  my  Friend,  until 
Chance  or  a  fleeting  Thought  brought  him  back  to 
the  realities  of  Life.  He  sighed  and  looked  about 
him,  as  a  Man  will  who  hath  just  wakened  from  a 
Dream.  Then  he  spied  me,  and  gave  me  his  wonted 
kindly  smile  and  glance. 

"Good  old  John!"  he  said,  with  a  self-deprecat- 
ing shrug  of  the  shoulders.  "  'Twas  not  an  edifying 
Scene  You  have  witnessed,  eh?  " 

"  'Twas  a  heartrending  one,"  I  riposted  almost 
involuntarily. 

"  Heartrending?  "  he  queried,  in  a  tone  of  intense 
bitterness,  "  to  watch  a  Fool  crushing  every  Noble 
Instinct  within  him  for  the  sake  of  getting  even 
with  a  Man  whom  he  neither  honours  nor  esteems  ?  " 

He  sighed  again,  and  beckoned  to  me  to  follow 
him. 

"  Let  us  home,  good  Honeywood,"  he  said.  "  I 
am  weary  of  all  this  wrangle,  and  pine  to  find  solace 
among  the  Poets." 

Nor  did  he  mention  the  name  of  the  Lady  Bar- 
bara again  to  me,  and  I  was  left  to  ponder  what  was 
going  on  in  his  Mind  and  whether  his  cruelly  venge- 


THE  LADY  PLEADS  253 

ful  Scheme  for  the  final  undoing  of  my  Lord  Stour 
would  indeed  come  to  maturity  on  the  following 
day.  I  knew  that  a  great  and  brilliant  Representa- 
tion of  the  late  Mr.  William  Shakespeare's  play, 
"Twelfth  Night,"  was  to  be  given  at  the  Duke's 
Theatre,  with  some  of  the  new  Scenery  and  realistic 
scenic  Effects  brought  over  last  Autumn  from  Paris 
by  Mr.  Betterton.  His  Majesty  had  definitely  prom- 
ised that  he  would  be  present  and  so  had  the  Coun- 
tess of  Castlemaine,  and  there  would  doubtless  be 
a  goodly  and  gorgeous  Company  present  to  applaud 
the  great  Actor,  whose  Performance  of  Sir  Toby 
Belch  was  one  of  the  Marvels  of  histrionic  Art, 
proclaiming  as  it  did  his  wonderful  versatility,  by 
contrast  with  his  equally  remarkable  exposition  of 
the  melancholy  Hamlett,  Prince  of  Denmark. 

That  I  now  awaited  that  Day  with  Sorrow  in 
my  Heart  and  with  measureless  Anxiety,  You,  dear 
Mistress,  will  readily  imagine.  Until  this  morning 
I  had  no  idea  of  the  terrible  Thunderbolt  which  my 
Friend  had  in  preparation  for  those  who  had  so 
shamefully  wronged  him;  and  I  still  marvelled 
whether  in  his  talk  with  the  Lady  Barbara  there  had 
not  lurked  some  idle  Threats  rather  than  a  serious 
Warning.  How  could  I  think  of  the  Man  whom 
I  had  learned  to  love  and  to  reverence  as  one  who 
would  nurture  such  cruel  Schemes?  And  yet,  did 
not  the  late  Mr.  Shakespeare  warn  us  that  "  Pleas- 
ure and  Revenge  have  ears  more  deaf  than  Adders 
to  the  voice  of  any  true  decision"  ?  Ah,  me!  but 
I  was  sick  at  heart. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  RULING  PASSION 


And  now,  dear  Mistress,  I  come  to  that  memor- 
able Evening  wherein  happened  that  which  causes 
You  so  much  heart-ache  at  this  Hour. 

I  know  that  the  Occurrences  of  that  Night  have 
been  brought  to  your  Notice  in  a  garbled  Version, 
and  that  Mr.  Betterton's  Enemies  have  placed  the 
Matter  before  You  in  a  manner  calculated  to  blacken 
his  Integrity.  But,  as  there  is  a  living  Judge  above 
Us  all,  I  swear  to  You,  beloved  Mistress,  that  what 
I  am  now  purposing  to  relate  is  nothing  but  the 
Truth.  Remember  that,  in  this  miserable  Era  of 
Scandal  and  Backbiting,  of  loose  Living  and  Sense- 
less Quarrels,  Mr.  Betterton's  Character  has  always 
stood  unblemished,  even  though  the  evil  Tongue  of 
Malice  hath  repeatedly  tried  to  attack  his  untar- 
nished Reputation.  Remember  also  that  the  great 
Actor's  few  but  virulent  Enemies  are  all  Men  who 
have  made  Failures  of  their  Lives,  who  are  Idlers, 
Sycophants  or  Profligates,  and  therefore  envious  of 
the  Fame  and  Splendour  of  one  who  is  thought 
worthy  to  be  the  Friend  of  Kings. 

2 

We  spoke  but  little  together  that  day  on  our  way 
home  from  the  Park.  Mr.  Betterton  was  moody, 

254 


THE  RULING  PASSION  255 

and  I  silent.  We  took  our  dinner  in  quietude. 
There  being  no  Performance  at  the  Theatre  that 
day,  Mr.  Betterton  settled  down  to  his  Desk  in  the 
afternoon,  telling  me  that  he  had  some  writing 
to  do. 

I,  too,  had  some  of  his  Correspondence  to  attend 
to,  and  presently  repaired  to  my  room,  my  Heart 
still  aching  with  Sorrow.  Did  I  not  guess  what 
Work  was  even  now  engrossing  the  Attention  of 
my  Friend?  He  was  deep  in  the  Composition  of 
that  cruel  Lampoon  which  he  meant  to  speak  on  the 
Stage  to-morrow,  in  the  presence  of  His  Majesty 
and  of  a  large  and  brilliant  Assembly.  Strive  as  I 
might,  I  could  not  to  myself  minimize  the  probable 
Effect  of  the  Lampoon  upon  the  Mind  of  the  Public. 
It  is  not  for  me,  dear  Mistress,  to  remind  You  of 
the  amazing  Popularity  of  Mr.  Betterton — a  Popu- 
larity which  hath  never  been  equalled  ere  this  by 
any  Actor,  Artist  or  Poet  in  England.  Whatever; 
he  spoke  from  the  Stage  would  be  treasured  and 
reiterated  and  commented  upon,  until  every  Citizen 
of  London  and  Westminster  became  himself  a  store- 
house of  Mud  that  would  be  slung  at  the  unfortu- 
nate Earl  of  Stour.  And  the  latter,  by  refusing  to 
fight  Mr.  Betterton  when  the  Latter  had  been  the 
injured  Party,  had  wilfully  cast  aside  any  Weapon 
of  Redress  which  he  might  after  this  have  called 
to  his  Aid. 

Well !  we  all  know  the  Effect  of  scurrilous  Quips 
spoken  from  the  Stage;  even  the  great  Mr.  Dryden 
or  the  famous  Mr.  Wycherley  have  not  been  above 


256      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

interpolating  some  in  their  Plays,  for  the  Confusion 
of  their  Enemies;  and  many  a  Gentleman's  or  a 
Lady's  Reputation  has  been  made  to  suffer  through 
the  Vindictiveness  of  a  noted  Actor  or  Playwright. 
But,  as  you  know,  Mr.  Betterton  had  never  hitherto 
lent  himself  to  such  Scandal-monging ;  he  stood  far 
above  those  petty  Quarrels  betwixt  Gentlemen  and 
Poets  that  could  be  settled  by  wordy  Warfare  across 
the  Footlights.  All  the  more  Weight,  therefore, 
would  the  Public  attach  to  an  Epilogue  specially 
written  and  spoken  by  him  on  so  great  an  occasion. 
And,  alas!  the  Mud-slinging  was  to  be  of  a  very 
peculiar  and  very  clinging  Nature. 

"  Then  let  the  Man  you  love  look  to  himself !  " 
the  outraged  Artist  had  said  coldly,  when  con- 
fronted for  the  last  time  by  the  Lady  Barbara's 
Disdain.  And  in  my  Mind  I  had  no  doubt  that,  for 
Good  or  for  Evil,  if  Tom  Betterton  set  out  to  do  a 
Thing,  he  would  carry  it  through  to  its  bitter 
End. 

3 

When,  having  finished  my  work,  I  went  into  Mr. 
Betterton's  study,  I  found  him  sitting  beside  his 
Desk,  though  no  longer  writing.  He  was  leaning 
back  against  the  cushions  of  his  chair  with  eyes 
closed,  his  face  set  and  hard.  Some  loose  papers, 
covered  with  his  neat,  careful  Caligraphy,  lay  in 
an  orderly  heap  upon  the  Desk. 

His  Work  was  evidently  finished.  Steeped  in 
Bitterness  and  in  Vengeance,  his  Pen  had  laboured 


THE  RULING  PASSION  257 

and  was  now  at  rest.  The  Eloquence  of  the  incom- 
parable Actor  would  now  do  the  rest. 

As  I  entered  the  Room,  the  tower  clock  of  West- 
minster was  just  striking  seven.  The  deep  bay 
Window  which  gave  on  a  solitary  corner  of  St. 
James's  Park,  was  wide  open,  and  through  it  there 
came  from  afar,  wafted  upon  the  evening  breeze,  the 
strains  of  a  masculine  Voice,  warm  and  mellow, 
singing  to  the  accompaniment  of  one  of  those 
stringed  Instruments  which  have  been  imported  of 
late  from  Italy. 

The  Voice  rose  and  fell  in  pleasing  Cadences,  and 
some  of  the  Words  of  the  Song  reached  mine  Ear. 

"You  are  my  Life.    You  ask  me  why? 
Because  my  hope  is  in  your  love." 

Whether  Mr.  Betterton  heard  them  or  not,  I  could 
not  say.  He  sat  there  so  still,  his  slender  Hands — 
white  and  tapering,  the  veritable  Hands  of  an  Artist 
— rested  listlessly  upon  the  arms  of  his  chair. 

"  Through  gloomy  Clouds  to  sunlit  Skies, 
To  rest  in  Faith  and  your  dear  Eyes." 

So  sang  the  sweet  Minstrel  out  there  in  the  fast 
gathering  Gloom.  I  went  up  to  the  window  and 
gazed  out  into  the  open  Vista  before  me.  Far  away 
I  could  see  the  twinkling  lights  from  the  windows 
of  St.  James's  Palace,  and  on  my  right  those  of 
White  Hall.  The  Singer  I  could  not  see.  He 
appeared  to  be  some  distance  away.  But  despite 
the  lateness  of  the  hour,  the  Park  was  still  alive 
with  people.  And  indeed  as  I  leaned  my  Head  fur- 


258      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

ther  out  of  the  Window,  I  was  struck  by  the  ani- 
mated spectacle  which  it  presented. 

No  doubt  that  the  unwonted  mildness  of  this 
early  spring  evening  had  induced  young  Maids  and 
Gallants,  as  well  as  more  sober  Folk  and  Gentle- 
men, to  linger  out  in  the  open.  The  charm  of  the 
Minstrel  and  his  Song,  too,  must  have  served  as  an 
additional  Attraction,  for  as  I  watched  the  People 
passing  to  and  fro,  I  heard  snatches  of  Conversa- 
tion, mostly  in  praise  of  the  Singer  or  of  the 
Weather. 

Anon  I  espied  Sir  William  Davenant  walking  with 
Mr.  Killigrew,  and  my  Lord  of  Rochester  dallying 
with  a  pretty  Damsel ;  one  or  two  more  Gentlemen 
did  I  recognize  as  I  gazed  on  the  moving  Sight,  until 
suddenly  I  saw  that  which  caused  me  to  draw  my 
Head  back  quickly  from  the  Window  and  to  gaze 
with  added  Anxiety  on  the  listless  Figure  of  my 
Friend. 

What  I  had  seen  down  below  had  indeed  filled 
my  Heart  with  Dread.  It  was  the  Figure  of  my 
Lord  Stour.  I  could  have  sworn  to  it,  even  though 
his  Lordship  was  wrapped  in  a  mantle  from  Head  to 
Foot  and  wore  a  broad-rimmed  Hat,  both  of  which 
would  indeed  have  disguised  his  Person  completely 
before  all  Eyes  save  those  of  Love,  of  Hate,  or  of 
an  abiding  Friendship. 

What  was  my  Lord  Stour  doing  at  this  Hour, 
and  in  disguise,  beneath  the  Window  of  his  bitterest 
Foe?  My  Anxiety  was  further  quickened  by  the 
Certainty  which  I  had  that  neither  he  nor  the  Lady 


THE  RULING  PASSION  259 

Barbara  would  allow  Mr.  Betterton's  Schemes  to 
mature  without  another  Struggle.  Even  as  I  once 
more  thrust  my  Head  out  of  the  Window,  in  order 
to  catch  another  glimpse  of  the  moody  and  solitary 
Figure  which  I  had  guessed  to  be  Lord  Stour,  me- 
thought  that  close  by  the  nearest  Shrubbery  I  espied 
the  Figure  of  the  Lady  Barbara,  in  close  conversa- 
tion with  her  Attendant  Both  Women  were 
wrapped  in  dark  Mantles  and  wore  thick  veils  to 
cover  their  Hair. 

A  dark  presentiment  of  Evil  now  took  possession 
of  my  Soul.  I  felt  like  a  Watch-dog  scenting  Dan- 
ger from  afar.  The  Man  whom  I  loved  better  than 
any  other  on  Earth  was  in  peril  of  his  Life,  at  the 
hands  of  an  Enemy  driven  mad  by  an  impending 
Doom — of  that  I  felt  suddenly  absolutely  convinced. 
And  somehow,  I  felt  equally  convinced  at  the  mo- 
ment that  we — I,  the  poor,  insignificant  Clerk,  as 
well  as  my  illustrious  Friend — were  standing  on  the 
Brink  of  an  overwhelming  Catastrophe. 

I  had  thought  to  warn  him  then  and  there,  yet 
dared  not  do  so  in  so  many  words.  Men  in  the 
prime  of  Life  and  the  plentitude  of  their  mental 
Powers  are  wont  to  turn  contemptuous  and  obsti- 
nate if  told  to  be  on  their  guard  against  a  lurking 
Enemy.  And  I  feared  that,  in  his  utter  contempt 
for  his  Foe,  Mr.  Betterton  might  be  tempted  to  do 
something  that  was  both  unconsidered  and  perilous. 

So  I  contented  myself  for  the  nonce  with  turning 
to  my  Friend,  seeing  that  he  had  wakened  from  his 
reverie  and  was  regarding  me  with  that  look  of 


260      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Confidence  and  Kindliness  which  always  warmed 
my  heart  when  I  was  conscious  of  it,  I  merely  re- 
marked quite  casually: 

"  The  Park  is  still  gay  with  Ladies  and  Gallants. 
'Tis  strange  at  this  late  hour.  But  a  Minstrel  is 
discoursing  sweet  Music  somewhere  in  the  distance. 
Mayhap  people  have  assembled  in  order  to  listen 
to  him." 

And,  as  if  to  confirm  my  Supposition,  a  merry 
peal  of  laughter  came  ringing  right  across  the  Park, 
and  we  heard  as  it  were  the  hum  and  murmur  of 
Pedestrians  moving  about.  And  through  it  all  the 
echo  of  the  amorous  Ditty  still  lingering  upon  the 
evening  air: 

"  For  you  are  Love — and  I  am  yours !  " 

"  Close  that  window,  John,"  Mr.  Betterton  said, 
with  an  impatient  little  sigh.  "  I  am  in  no  mood 
for  sentimental  Ballads." 

I  did  as  he  desired,  and  whilst  in  the  act  of  closing 
the  Window,  I  said  guardedly: 

"  I  caught  sight  of  my  Lord  Stour  just  now,  pac- 
ing the  open  Ground  just  beneath  this  Window.  He 
appeared  moody  and  solitary,  and  was  wrapped 
from  head  to  foot  in  a  big  Mantle,  as  if  he  wished 
to  avoid  Recognition." 

"  I  too  am  moody  and.  solitary,  good  Honey- 
wood,"  was  Mr.  Betterton's  sole  comment  on  my 
remark.  Then  he  added,  with  a  slight  shiver  of  his 
whole  body :  "  I  prithee,  see  to  the  Fire.  I  am 
perished  with  the  cold." 


THE  RULING  PASSION  261 

I  went  up  to  the  Hearth  and  kicked  the  dying 
embers  into  a  Blaze;  then  found  some  logs  and 
threw  them  on  the  Fire. 

"  The  evening  is  warm,  Sir,"  I  said ;  "  and  you 
complained  of  the  Heat  awhile  ago." 

"  Yes,"  he  rejoined  wearily.  "  My  head  is  on 
fire  and  my  Spine  feels  like  ice." 

It  was  quite  dark  in  the  Room  now,  save  for  the 
flickering  and  ruddy  firelight.  So  I  went  out  and 
bade  the  Servant  give  me  the  candles.  I  came  back 
with  them  myself  and  set  them  on  the  Desk.  As 
I  did  so,  I  glanced  at  Mr.  Betterton.  He  had  once 
more  taken  up  his  listless  Attitude;  his  Head  was 
leaning  against  the  back  of  his  Chair,  and  I  could 
not  fail  to  note  how  pallid  his  Face  looked  and  how 
drawn,  and  there  was  a  frown  between  his  Brows 
which  denoted  wearying  and  absorbing  Thoughts. 
Wishing  to  distract  him  from  his  brooding  Melan- 
choly, I  thought  of  reminding  him  of  certain  artistic 
and  social  Duties  which  were  awaiting  his  Atten- 
tion. 

"Will  you  send  an  Answer,  Sir,"  I  asked  him 
with  well-assumed  indifference,  "  to  the  Chancellor  ? 
It  is  on  the  Subject  of  the  Benefit  Performance  in 
aid  of  the  Indigent  Poor  of  the  City  of  Westmin- 
ster. His  Lordship  again  sent  a  messenger  this 
afternoon." 

"  Yes !  "  Mr.  Betterton  replied  readily  enough, 
and  sought  amongst  his  Papers  for  a  Letter  which 
he  had  apparently  written  some  time  during  the 
Day.  "  If  His  Lordship's  Messenger  calls  again, 


262     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

let  him  have  this  Note.  I  must  arrange  for  the 
Benefit  Performance,  of  course.  But  I  doubt  if 
many  members  of  the  Company  will  care  to  give 
their  Services." 

"  I  think  that  Mr.  Robert  Noakes  would  be  will- 
ing," I  suggested.  "  Also  Mr.  Lilleston." 

"  Perhaps,  perhaps !  "  he  broke  in  listlessly.  "  But 
we  must  have  Actresses  too,  and  they " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  I  rejoined  with 
great  alacrity: 

"  Oh !  I  feel  sure  that  Mistress  Saunderson  would 
be  ready  to  join  in  any  benevolent  Scheme  for  the 
betterment  of  the  Poor." 

"Ah!  but  she  is  an  Angel!"  Mr.  Betterton  ex- 
claimed. And,  believe  me,  dear  Mistress,  that  those 
words  came  as  if  involuntarily  to  his  Lips,  out  of 
the  Fulness  of  his  Heart.  And  even  when  he  had 
spoken,  a  Look  of  infinite  Sadness  swept  over  his 
Face  and  he  rested  his  Head  against  his  Hand, 
shading  his  Eyes  from  the  light  of  the  Candles,  lest 
I  should  read  the  Thoughts  that  were  mirrored 
therein. 

"  There  came  a  messenger,  too,  this  afternoon," 
I  reminded  him,  "  from  Paris,  with  an  autograph 
Letter  from  His  Majesty  the  King  of  France." 

"  Yes ! "  he  replied,  and  nodded  his  Head,  I 
thought,  uncomprehendingly. 

"  Also  a  letter  from  the  University  of  Stock- 
holm. They  propose  that  You  should  visit  the  City 
in  the  course  of  the  Summer  and " 

"Yes,  yes!     I  know!"  he  rejoined  impatiently. 


THE  RULING  PASSION  263 

"  I  will  attend  to  it  all  another  time  .  .  .  But  not 
to-night,  good  Honeywood,"  he  went  on  almost 
appealingly,  like  a  Man  wearied  with  many  Tasks. 
"  My  mind  is  like  a  squeezed  Orange  to-night." 

Then  he  held  out  his  Hand  to  me — that  beautiful, 
slender  Hand  of  his,  which  I  had  so  often  kissed 
in  the  excess  of  my  Gratitude — and  added  with 
gentle  Indulgence: 

"  Let  me  be  to-night,  good  Friend.  Leave  me  to 
myself.  I  am  such  poor  Company  and  am  best 
alone." 

I  took  his  hand.  It  was  burning  hot,  as  if  with 
inward  Fever.  All  my  Friendship  for  him,  all  my 
Love,  was  at  once  on  the  alert,  dreading  the  rav- 
ages of  some  inward  Disease,  brought  on  mayhap 
by  so  much  Soul-worry. 

"  I  do  not  relish  leaving  You  alone  to-night,"  I 
said,  with  more  gruffness  than  I  am  wont  to  dis- 
play. "  This  room  is  easy  of  Access  from  the 
Park." 

He  smiled,  a  trifle  sadly. 

"Dost  think,"  he  asked,  with  a  slight  shrug  of 
the  shoulders,  "  that  a  poor  Mountebank  would 
tempt  a  midnight  Robber  ?  " 

"  No !  "  I  replied  firmly.  "  But  my  Lord  Stour, 
wrapped  to  the  eyes  in  his  Mantle,  hath  prowled  be- 
neath these  Windows  for  an  hour."  Then,  as  he 
made  no  comment,  I  continued  with  some  Fervour : 
"  A  determined  Man,  who  hates  Another,  can  easily 
climb  up  to  a  first  floor  Window " 

"  Tush,  friend !  "  he  broke  in  sharply.     "  I  am 


264     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

not  afraid  of  his  Lordship  ...  I  am  afraid  of 
nothing  to-night,  my  good  Honeywood,"  he  added 
softly,  "  except  of  myself." 

4 

You  certainly  will  not  wonder,  dear  Mistress, 
that  after  that  I  did  not  obey  his  Commands  to  leave 
him  to  himself.  I  am  nothing  of  an  Eavesdropper, 
God  knows,  nor  yet  would  I  pry  into  the  Secrets  of 
the  Soul  of  the  one  Man  whom  I  reverence  above 
all  others.  But,  even  as  I  turned  reluctantly  away 
from  him  in  order  to  go  back  to  my  Room,  I  re- 
solved that,  unless  he  actually  shut  the  Door  in  my 
Face,  I  would  circumvent  him  and  would  remain 
on  the  watch,  like  a  faithful  Dog  who  scents  Danger 
for  his  Master.  In  this  I  did  not  feel  that  I  was 
doing  any  Wrong.  God  saw  in  my  Heart  and  knew 
that  my  Purpose  was  innocent.  I  thank  Him  on 
my  Knees  in  that  He  strengthened  me  in  my  Re- 
solve. But  for  that  Resolve,  I  should  not  have  been 
cognizant  of  all  the  details  of  those  Events  which 
culminated  in  such  a  dramatic  Climax  that  night, 
and  I  would  not  have  been  able  to  speak  with  Au- 
thority when  placing  all  the  Facts  before  You.  Let 
me  tell  You  at  once  that  I  was  there,  in  Mr.  Better- 
ton's  Room,  during  the  whole  of  the  time  that  the 
Incident  occurred  which  I  am  now  about  to  relate. 

He  had  remained  sitting  at  his  Desk,  and  I  went 
across  the  Room  in  the  direction  of  the  communi- 
cating Door  which  gave  on  my  own  Study.  But  I 
did  not  go  through  that  Door.  I  just  opened  and 


THE  RULING  PASSION  265 

shut  it  noisily,  and  then  slipped  stealthily  behind  the 
tall  oaken  Dresser,  which  stands  in  a  dark  Angle 
of  the  Room.  From  this  point  of  Vantage  I  could 
watch  closely  and  ceaselessly,  and  at  the  slightest 
Suspicion  of  immediate  Danger  to  my  Friend  I 
would  be  free  to  slip  out  of  my  Hiding-place  and  to 
render  him  what  Assistance  he  required.  I  had  to 
squat  there  in  a  cramped  Position,  and  I  felt  half 
suffocated  with  the  closeness  of  the  Atmosphere 
behind  so  heavy  a  Piece  of  Furniture;  but  this  I 
did  not  mind.  From  where  I  was  I  could  command 
a  view  of  Mr.  Betterton  at  his  Desk,  and  of  the 
Window,  which  I  wished  now  that  I  had  taken  the 
Precaution  to  bar  and  bolt  ere  I  retired  to  my  Cor- 
ner behind  the  Dresser. 

For  awhile,  everything  was  silent  in  the  Room; 
only  the  great  Clock  ticked  loudly  in  its  case,  and 
now  and  again  the  blazing  logs  gave  an  intermit- 
tent Crackle.  I  just  could  see  the  outline  of  Mr. 
Betterton's  Shoulder  and  Arm  silhouetted  against 
the  candle  light.  He  sat  forward,  his  elbow  resting 
upon  the  Desk,  his  Head  leaning  against  his  Hand, 
and  so  still  that  presently  I  fell  to  thinking  that  he 
must  have  dropped  to  sleep. 

But  suddenly  he  gave  that  quick,  impatient  Sigh 
of  his,  which  I  had  learned  to  know  so  well,  pushed 
back  his  chair,  and  rose  to  his  Feet.  Whereupon, 
he  began  pacing  up  and  down  the  Room,  in  truth 
like  some  poor,  perturbed  Spirit  that  is  denied  the 
Solace  of  Rest. 

Then  he  began  to  murmur  to  himself.     I  know 


266      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

that  mood  of  his  and  believe  it  to  be  peculiar  to  the 
artistic  Temperament,  which,  when  it  feels  itself 
untrammelled  by  the  Presence  of  Others,  gives  vent 
to  its  innermost  Thoughts  in  mumbled  Words. 

From  time  to  time  I  caught  Snatches  of  what  he 
said — wild  Words  for  the  most  part,  which  showed 
the  Perturbation  of  his  Spirit.  He,  whose  Mind 
was  always  well-ordered,  whose  noble  Calling  had 
taught  him  to  co-ordinate  his  Thoughts  and  to  sub- 
due them  to  his  Will,  was  now  murmuring  inco- 
herent Phrases,  disjointed  Sentences  that  would 
have  puzzled  me  had  I  not  known  the  real  Trend  of 
his  Mood. 

"  Barbara !  .  .  . "  he  said  at  one  time.  "  Beau- 
tiful, exquisite,  innocent  Lady  Babs;  the  one  pure 
Crystal  in  that  Laboratory  of  moral  Decomposition, 
the  Court  of  White  Hall.  ..."  Then  he  paused, 
struck  his  Forehead  with  his  Hand,  and  added  with 
a  certain  fierce  Contempt :  "  But  she  will  yield  .  .  . 
she  is  ready  now  to  yield.  She  will  cast  aside  her 
Pride,  and  throw  herself  into  the  arms  of  a  Man 
whom  she  hates,  all  for  the  sake  of  that  young 
Coxcomb,  who  is  not  worthy  to  kiss  the  Sole  of 
her  Shoe!" 

Again  he  paused,  flung  himself  back  into  his 
Chair,  and  once  more  buried  his  Face  in  his  Hands. 

"  Oh,  Woman,  Woman !  "  I  could  hear  him  mur- 
muring. "  What  an  Enigma !  How  can  the  mere 
Man  attempt  to  understand  thee  ?  " 

Then  he  laughed.  Oh !  I  could  not  bear  the  sound 
of  that  laugh:  there  was  naught  but  Bitterness  in 


THE  RULING  PASSION  267 

it.  And  he  said  slowly  muttering  between  his 
Teeth : 

"  The  Philosopher  alone  knows  that  Women  are 
like  Melons :  it  is  only  after  having  tasted  them  that 
one  knows  if  they  are  good." 

Of  course,  he  said  a  great  deal  more  during  the 
course  of  that  dreary,  restless  hour,  which  seemed 
to  me  like  a  Slice  out  of  Eternity.  His  Restless- 
ness was  intense.  Every  now  and  then  he  would 
jump  up  and  walk  up  and  down,  up  and  down, 
until  his  every  Footstep  had  its  counterpart  in  the 
violent  beatings  of  my  Heart.  Then  he  would  fling 
himself  into  a  Chair  and  rest  his  Head  against  the 
Cushions,  closing  his  Eyes  as  if  he  were  in  bodily 
Pain,  or  else  beat  his  Forehead  with  his  Fists. 

Of  course  he  thought  himself  unobserved,  for 
Mr.  Better  ton  is,  as  You  know,  a  Man  of  great 
mental  Reserve.  Not  even  before  me — his  faithful 
and  devoted  Friend — would  he  wittingly  have  dis- 
played such  overmastering  Emotion.  To  say  that 
an  equally  overwhelming  Sorrow  filled  my  Heart 
would  be  but  to  give  You,  dear  Mistress,  a  feeble 
Statement  of  what  I  really  felt.  To  see  a  Man  of 
Mr.  Betterton's  mental  and  physical  Powers  so 
utterly  crushed  by  an  insane  Passion  was  indeed 
heartrending.  Had  he  not  everything  at  his  Feet 
that  any  Man  could  wish  for? — Fame,  Honours,  the 
Respect  and  Admiration  of  all  those  who  mattered 
in  the  World.  Women  adored  him,  Men  vied  with 
one  another  to  render  him  the  sincerest  Flattery  by 
striving  to  imitate  his  Gestures,  his  Mode  of  Speech, 


268      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

the  very  Cut  of  his  Clothes.  And,  above  all — aye, 
I  dare  assert  it,  and  You,  beloved  Mistress  will,  I 
know,  forgive  me — above  all,  he  had  the  Love  of  a 
pure  and  good  Woman,  of  a  talented  Artist — yours, 
dear  Lady — an  inestimable  Boon,  for  which  many  a 
Man  would  thank  his  Maker  on  his  Knees. 

Ah !  he  was  blind  then,  had  been  blind  since  that 
fatal  Hour  when  the  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode 
crossed  his  Path.  I  could  endorse  the  wild  Words 
which  he  had  spoken  to  her  this  forenoon.  A  thou- 
sand devils  were  indeed  unchained  within  him;  but 
'tis  not  to  her  Kiss  that  they  would  yield,  but  rather 
to  the  gentle  Ministration  of  exquisite  Mistress 
Saunderson. 


CHAPTER  XV 
MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS 


I  felt  so  cramped  and  numb  in  my  narrow  hiding- 
place  that  I  verily  believe  I  must  have  fallen  into  a 
kind  of  trance-like  Slumber. 

From  this  I  was  suddenly  awakened  by  the  loud 
Clang  of  our  front-door  Bell,  followed  immediately 
by  the  Footsteps  of  the  Serving  Man  upon  the 
Landing,  and  then  by  a  brief  Colloquy  between  him 
and  the  belated  Visitor. 

Seriously,  at  the  moment  I  had  no  Conception  of 
who  this  might  be,  until  I  glanced  at  Mr.  Betterton. 
And  then  I  guessed.  Guessed,  just  as  he  had  already 
done.  Every  line  of  his  tense  and  expectant  Atti- 
tude betrayed  the  Fact  that  he  had  recognized  the 
Voice  upon  the  Landing,  and  that  its  sound  had 
thrilled  his  very  Soul  and  brought  him  back  from 
the  Land  of  Dreams  and  Nightmare,  where  he  had 
been  wandering  this  past  hour. 

You  remember,  dear  Lady,  the  last  time  Mr. 
Betterton  played  in  a  Tragedy  called  "  Hamlett," 
wherein  there  is  a  Play  within  a  Play,  and  the 
melancholy  Prince  of  Denmark  sets  a  troupe  of 
Actors  to  enact  a  Representation  of  the  terrible 
Crime  whereof  he  accuses  both  his  Uncle  and  his 

269 


270      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Mother?  It  is  a  Scene  which,  when  played  by  Mr. 
Betterton,  is  wont  to  hold  the  Audience  enthralled. 
He  plays  his  Part  in  it  by  lying  full  length  on  the 
Ground,  his  Body  propped  up  by  his  Elbow  and  his 
Chin  supported  in  his  Hand.  His  Eyes — those  won- 
derful, expressive  Eyes  of  his — he  keeps  fixed  upon 
the  guilty  Pair:  his  Mother  and  his  Uncle.  He 
watches  the  play  of  every  Emotion  upon  their  faces 
— Fear,  Anger,  and  then  the  slowly  creeping,  en- 
veloping Remorse;  and  his  rigid,  stern  Features 
express  an  Intensity  of  Alertness  and  of  Expec- 
tancy, which  is  so  poignant  as  to  be  almost  painful. 
Just  such  an  Expression  did  my  dear  Friend's 
Face  wear  at  this  Moment.  He  had  pushed  his 
Chair  back  slightly,  so  that  I  had  a  fuller  view  of 
him,  and  the  flickering  light  of  the  wax  Candles 
illumined  his  clear-cut  Features  and  his  Eyes,  fixed 
tensely  upon  the  door. 


The  next  moment  the  serving  Man  threw  open 
the  door  and  the  Lady  Barbara  walked  in.  I  could 
not  see  her  until  she  had  advanced  further  into  the 
middle  of  the  Room.  Then  I  beheld  her  in  all  her 
Loveliness.  Nay!  I'll  not  deny  it.  She  was  still 
incomparably  beautiful,  with,  in  addition,  that  mar- 
vellous air  of  Breeding  and  of  Delicacy,  which 
rendered  her  peerless  amongst  her  kind.  I  hated 
her  for  the  infinite  wrong  which  she  had  done  to  my 
Friend,  but  I  could  not  fail  to  admire  her.  Her 
Mantle  was  thrown  back  from  her  Shoulders  and  a 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    271 

dark,  filmy  Veil,  resembling  a  Cloud,  enveloped  her 
fair  Hair.  Beneath  her  Mantle  she  wore  a  Dress 
of  something  grey  that  shimmered  like  Steel  in  the 
Candlelight.  A  few  tendrils  of  her  ardent  Hair  had 
escaped  from  beneath  her  Veil,  and  they  made  a 
kind  of  golden  Halo  around  her  Face.  She  was 
very  pale,  but  of  that  transparent,  delicate  Pallor 
that  betokens  Emotion  rather  than  ill-health,  and  her 
Eyes  looked  to  me  to  be  as  dark  as  Sloes,  even 
though  I  knew  them  to  be  blue. 

For  the  space  of  one  long  Minute,  which  seemed 
like  Eternity,  these  two  remained  absolutely  still, 
just  looking  at  one  another.  Methought  that  I  could 
hear  the  very  heart-beats  within  my  breast.  Then 
the  Lady  said,  with  a  queer  little  catch  in  her  Throat 
and  somewhat  hesitatingly : 

"  You  are  surprised  to  see  me,  Sir,  no  doubt  .  .  . 
but  .  .  ." 

She  was  obviously  at  a  loss  how  to  begin.  And 
Mr.  Betterton,  aroused  no  doubt  by  her  Voice  from 
his  absorption,  rose  quickly  to  his  Feet  and  made 
her  a  deep  and  respectful  Obeisance. 

'  The  Angels  from  Heaven  sometimes  descend  to 
Earth,"  he  said  slowly;  "yet  the  Earth  is  more 
worthy  of  their  Visit  than  is  the  humble  Artist  of 
the  Presence  of  his  Muse."  Then  he  added  more 
artlessly:  "Will  You  deign  to  sit?  " 

He  drew  a  Chair  forward  for  her,  but  She  did 
not  take  it,  continued  to  speak  with  a  strange,  ob- 
viously forced  Gaiety  and  in  a  halting  Manner. 

"  I  thank  you,  Sir,"  she  said.     "  That  is  ... 


272      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

no   ...  not  yet  ...   I  like  to  look  about  me." 

She  went  close  up  to  the  Desk  and  began  to  finger 
idly  the  Books  and  Papers  which  lay  scattered  pell- 
mell  upon  it,  he  still  gazing  on  her  as  if  he  had 
not  yet  realized  the  Actuality  of  her  Presence. 
Anon  she  looked  inquiringly  about  her. 

"  What  a  charming  room !  "  she  said,  with  a  little 
cry  of  wonder.  "  So  new  to  me !  I  have  never  seen 
an  Artist's  room  before." 

"  For  weeks  and  months,"  Mr.  Betterton  rejoined 
simply,  "  this  one  has  been  a  temple,  hallowed  by 
thoughts  of  You.  Your  Presence  now,  has  hence- 
forth made  it  a  Sanctuary." 

She  turned  full,  inquiring  Eyes  upon  him  and 
riposted  with  childlike  Ingenuousness: 

"Yet  must  You  wonder,  Sir,  at  my  Presence 
here  .  .  .  alone  .  .  .  and  at  this  hour." 

"  In  my  heart,"  he  replied,  "  there  is  such  an 
Infinity  of  Happiness  that  there  is  no  Room  for 
Wonder." 

"  An  Infinity  of  Happiness  ?  "  she  said  with  a 
quaint  little  sigh.  "  That  is  what  we  are  all  striv- 
ing for,  is  it  not^  The  Scriptures  tell  us  that  this 
Earth  is  a  Vale  of  Tears.  No  wonder !  "  she  added 
naively,  "  since  we  are  so  apt  to  allow  Happiness  to 
pass  us  by." 

Oh!  how  I  wished  I  had  the  Courage  then  and 
there  to  reveal  myself  to  these  Twain,  to  rush  out  of 
my  Hiding-place  and  seize  that  wily  Temptress  who, 
I  felt  sure,  was  here  only  for  the  undoing  of  a  Man 
whom  she  hated  with  unexampled  Bitterness.  Oh, 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    273 

why  hath  grudging  Nature  made  me  weak  and  cow- 
ardly and  diffident,  when  my  whole  Soul  yearns  at 
times  to  be  resourceful  and  bold?  Believe  me,  dear 
Mistress,  that  my  Mind  and  my  Will-power  were 
absolutely  torn  between  two  Impulses — the  one 
prompting  me  to  put  a  stop  to  this  dangerous  and 
purposeless  Interview,  this  obvious  Trap  set  to  catch 
a  great  and  unsuspecting  Artist  unawares;  and  the 
other  urging  me  not  to  interfere,  but  rather  to  allow 
Destiny,  Fate  or  the  Will  of  God  alone  to  straighten 
out  the  Web  of  my  Friend's  Life,  which  had  been 
embroiled  by  such  Passions  as  were  foreign  to  his 
noble  Nature. 

And  now  I  am  thankful  that  I  allowed  this  latter 
Counsel  to  prevail.  The  Will  of  God  did  indeed 
shape  the  Destinies  of  Men  this  night  for  their 
Betterment  and  ultimate  Happiness.  But,  for  the 
moment,  the  Threads  of  many  a  Life  did  appear  to 
be  most  hopelessly  tangled:  the  Lady  Barbara 
Wychwoode,  daughter  of  the  Marquis  of  Sidbury, 
the  fiancee  of  the  Earl  of  Stour,  was  in  the  house  of 
Tom  Betterton,  His  Majesty's  Well-Beloved  Serv- 
ant, and  he  was  passionately  enamoured  of  her  and 
had  vowed  Vengeance  against  the  Man  she  loved. 
As  he  gazed  on  her  now  there  was  no  Hatred  in 
his  Glance,  no  evil  Passion  disturbed  the  Look  of 
Adoration  wherewith  he  regarded  her. 

"  Barbara,"  he  pleaded  humbly,  "  be  merciful  to 
me.  .  .  .  For  pity's  sake,  do  not  mock  me  with 
your  smile !  My  dear,  do  you  not  see  that  I  scarce 
can  believe  that  I  live  .  .  .  and  that  you  are  here  ? 


274     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

.  .  .  You !  .  .  .  You ! "  he  went  on,  with  pas- 
sionate Earnestness.  "  My  Divinity,  whom  I  only 
dare  approach  on  bended  Knees,  whose  Garment  I 
scarce  dare  touch  with  my  trembling  Lips !  " 

He  bent  the  Knee  and  raised  the  long,  floating 
End  of  her  cloudlike  Veil  to  his  Lips.  I  could  have 
sworn  at  that  Moment  that  she  recoiled  from  him 
and  that  she  made  a  Gesture  to  snatch  away  the 
Veil,  as  if  his  very  Touch  on  it  had  been  Pollution. 
That  Gesture  and  the  Recoil  were,  however,  quite 
momentary.  The  next  second,  even  whilst  he  rose 
once  more  to  his  Feet,  she  had  already  recovered 
herself. 

"  Hush !  "  she  said  gently,  and  drew  herself  art- 
lessly away  from  his  Nearness.  "  I  want  to  listen. 
.  .  .  People  say  that  Angels  wait  upon  Mr.  Better- 
ton  when  he  studies  his  Part  .  .  .  and  I  want  to 
hear  the  flutter  of  their  Wings." 

"  The  Air  vibrates  with  the  Echo  of  your  sweet 
Name,"  he  rejoined,  and  his  exquisite  Voice  sounded 
mellow  and  vibrant  as  a  sensitive  Instrument 
touched  by  a  Master's  Hand.  "  Your  name,  which 
with  mad  longing  I  have  breathed  morning,  noon 
and  eve.  And  now  .  .  .  now  ...  I  am  not 
dreaming  .  .  .  You  are  near  me !  .  .  .  You,  the 
perfect  Lady  Barbara  ...  my  Lady  Babs.  .  .  . 
And  you  look — almost  happy !  " 

She  gave  him  a  Look — the  true  Look  of  a  Siren 
set  to  enchain  the  Will  of  Man. 

"Happy?"  she  queried  demurely.  "Nay,  Sir 
-.  .  .  puzzled,  perhaps." 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    275 

"  Puzzled  ?  "  he  echoed.    "  Why  ?  " 

"  Wondering,"  she  replied,  "  what  magic  is  in  the 
air  that  could  make  a  Woman's  Heart  .  .  .  for- 
sake one  Love  ...  for  ...  for  Another." 

Yes!  She  said  this,  and  looked  on  him  straight 
between  the  Eyes  as  she  spoke.  Yet  I  knew  that  she 
lied,  could  have  screamed  the  Accusation  at  her,  so 
convinced  was  I  that  she  was  playing  some  subtle 
and  treacherous  Game,  designed  to  entrap  him  and 
to  deliver  him  helpless  and  broken  into  her  Power. 
But  he,  alas !  was  blinded  by  his  Passion.  He  saw 
no  Siren  in  her,  no  Falsehood  in  her  Smile.  At  her 
Words,  I  saw  a  great  Light  of  Happiness  illumine 
his  Face. 

"  Barbara ! "  he  pleaded.  "  Have  pity  on  me,  for 
my  Reason  wanders.  I  dare  not  call  it  back,  lest  this 
magic  hour  should  prove  to  be  a  Dream." 

He  tried  to  take  her  in  his  Arms,  but  she  evaded 
him,  ran  to  the  other  side  of  the  Desk,  laughing 
merrily  like  a  Child.  Once  again  her  delicate 
Fingers  started  to  toy  with  the  Papers  scattered 
there. 

"  Oh,  ho !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  well- feigned 
astonishment.  "  Your  desk !  Why,  this,"  she  said, 
placing  her  Hand  upon  the  neat  pile  before  her, 
"must  be  that  very  Thunderbolt  wherewith 
to-morrow  you  mean  to  crush  an  arrogant 
Enemy  1  " 

"  Barbara! "  he  rejoined  with  ever  growing  pas- 
sion, and  strove  to  take  her  Hand.  "  Will  you  not 
let  me  tell  You " 


276     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  she  replied  archly,  and  quietly  with- 
drew her  Hand  from  his  grasp.  "  You  shall  speak 
to  me  anon  some  of  those  Speeches  of  our  great 
Poets,  which  your  Genius  hath  helped  to  im- 
mortalize. To  hear  Mr.  Betterton  recite  will  be  an 
inestimable  Privilege  .  .  .  which  your  many  Ad- 
mirers, Sir,  will  envy  me." 

"  The  whole  world  would  envy  me  to-night,"  he 
retorted,  and  gazed  on  her  with  such  Ardour  that 
she  was  forced  to  lower  her  Eyes  and  to  hide  their 
Expression  behind  the  delicate  Curtain  of  her 
Lashes. 

I,  who  was  the  dumb  Spectator  of  this  cruel 
Game,  saw  that  the  Lady  Barbara  was  feeling  her 
way  towards  her  Goal.  There  was  so  much  Excite- 
ment in  her,  such  palpitating  Vitality,  that  her  very 
Heart-beats  seemed  to  find  their  Echo  in  my  breast. 
Of  course,  I  did  not  know  yet  what  Game  it  was 
that  she  was  playing.  All  that  I  knew  was  that  it 
was  both  deadly  and  treacherous.  Even  now,  when 
Mr.  Betterton  once  more  tried  to  approach  her  and 
she  as  instinctively  as  before  recoiled  before  him,  she 
contrived  to  put  strange  softness  into  her  Voice,  and 
a  subtle,  insidious  Promise  which  helped  to  confuse 
his  Brain. 

"No — no!"  she  said.  "Not  just  yet  ...  I 
pray  you  have  pity  on  my  Blushes.  I — I  still  am 
affianced  to  my  Lord  Stour  .  .  .  although  ..." 

"  You  are  right,  my  beloved,"  he  rejoined  simply. 
"  I  will  be  patient,  even  though  I  am  standing  on  the 
Threshold  of  Paradise.  But  will  You  not  be  merci- 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    277 

ful?  I  cannot  see  you  well.  Will  you  not  take  off 
that  Veil  ?  ...  It  casts  a  dark  shadow  over  your 
Brow." 

This  time  she  allowed  him  to  come  near  her,  and, 
quite  slowly,  she  unwound  the  Veil  from  round  her 
Head.  He  took  it  from  her  as  if  it  were  some  hal- 
lowed Relic,  too  sacred  to  be  polluted  by  earthly 
Touch.  And,  as  her  back  was  turned  towards  him, 
he  crushed  the  Gossamer  between  his  Hands  and 
pressed  its  Fragrance  to  his  Lips. 

"There!"  she  said  coolly.  "  Tis  done.  Your 
magic,  Sir  Actor,  has  conquered  again." 

It  seemed  to  me  that  she  was  more  self-possessed 
now  than  she  had  been  when  first  she  entered  the 
Room.  Indeed,  her  Serenity  appeared  to  grow  as  his 
waned  perceptibly.  She  still  was  a  little  restless, 
wandering  aimlessly  about  the  Room,  fingering  the 
Books,  the  Papers,  the  Works  of  Art  that  lay  every- 
where about;  but  it  seemed  like  the  restlessness  of 
Curiosity  rather  than  of  Excitement.  In  her  own 
Mind  she  felt  that  she  held  the  Winning  Hand — of 
this  I  was  convinced — and  that  she  could  afford  to 
toy  with  and  to  befool  the  Man  who  had  dared  to 
measure  his  Power  against  hers. 

After  awhile,  she  sat  down  in  her  Chair  which  he 
had  brought  forward  for  her,  and  which  stood  close 
to  the  Desk. 

"  And  now,  Sir,"  she  said  with  cool  composure, 
"  'tis  You  who  must  humour  me.  I  have  a  fancy 
.  .  .  now,  at  this  moment  .  .  .  and  my  Desire 
is  to  be  thoroughly  spoiled." 


278      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  Every  Whim  of  yours,"  he  rejoined,  "  is  a  Com- 
mand to  your  humble  Slave." 

"  Truly?  "  she  queried. 

"  Truly." 

"  Then  will  You  let  me  see  you  .  .  .  sitting  at 
your  Desk  .  .  .  Pen  in  hand  .  .  .  writing 
something  just  for  me?  " 

"  All  my  work  of  late,"  he  replied,  "  has  been  done 
because  of  You  .  .  .  but  I  am  no  Poet.  What  I 
speak  may  have  some  Merit.  What  I  write  hath 
none." 

"  Oh ! "  she  protested  with  well-simulated 
Coquetry,  "  what  I  desire  You  to  write  for  me,  Sir 
Actor,  will  have  boundless  Merit.  It  is  just  a  couple 
of  Lines  designed  to  ...  to  ...  prove  your 
Love  for  me — Oh !  "  she  added  quickly,  "  I  scarce 
dare  believe  in  it,  Sir  ...  I  scare  understood 
.  .  .  You  remember,  this  morning  in  the  Park,  I 
was  so  excited,  yet  you  asked  me — to  be — your 
Wife!" 

"  My  Wife !  "  he  cried,  his  Voice  ringing  with 
triumphant  Passion.  "  And  you  would  con- 
sent?  " 

"  And  so  I  came,"  she  riposted,  evading  a  direct 
Answer,  "  to  see  if  I  had  been  dreaming  ...  if, 
indeed,  the  great  and  illustrious  Mr.  Betterton  had 
stooped  to  love  a  Woman  .  .  .  and  for  the  sake 
of  that  Love  would  do  a  little  Thing  for  Her." 

Lies !  Lies !  I  knew  that  every  Word  which  she 
spoke  was  nothing  but  a  Lie.  My  God!  if  only  I 
could  have  unriddled  her  Purpose!  If  only  I  could 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    279 

have  guessed  what  went  on  behind  those  marvellous 
Eyes  of  hers,  deep  and  unfathomable  as  the  Sea! 
All  I  knew — and  this  I  did  in  the  very  Innermost  of 
my  Soul — was  that  the  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode 
had  come  here  to-night  in  order  to  trick  Mr.  Better- 
ton,  and  to  turn  his  Love  for  her  to  Advantage  for 
my  Lord  Stour.  How  carefully  she  had  thought  out 
the  Part  which  she  meant  to  play;  how  completely 
she  meant  to  have  him  at  her  Mercy,  only  in  order 
to  mock  and  deride  him  in  the  End,  I  had  yet  to 
learn. 

Even  now  she  completed  his  Undoing,  the 
Addling  of  his  noble  Mind,  by  casting  Looks  of 
shy  Coquetry  upon  him.  What  Man  is  there  who 
could  have  resisted  them?  What  Man,  who  was 
himself  so  deeply  infatuated  as  was  Mr.  Betterton, 
could  believe  that  there  was  Trickery  in  those 
Glances?  He  sat  down  at  his  Desk,  as  she  had 
desired  him  to  do,  and  drew  Pen,  Ink  and  Paper 
closer  to  his  Hand. 

"  An  you  asked  my  Life,"  he  said  simply,  "  I 
would  gladly  give  it  to  prove  my  Love  for  You." 
Then,  as  she  remained  silent  and  meditative,  he 
added :  "  What  is  your  Ladyship's  wish?  " 

"Oh!"  she  replied,  "'tis  a  small  matter  .  .  . 
It  concerns  the  Earl  of  Stour  .  .  .  We  were 
Friends  .  .  .  once  .  .  .  Playmates  when  we  were 
Children  .  .  .  That  Friendship  ripened  into  a — 
a — Semblance  of  Love.  No !  No !  "  she  went  on 
rapidly,  seeing  that  at  her  Words  lie  had  made  a 
swift  Movement,  leaning  towards  her.  "  I  pray  you, 


280      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

listen.  That  Semblance  of  Love  may  have  gone 
.  .  .  but  Friendship  still  abides.  My  Lord  Stour, 
the  Playmate  of  my  Childhood,  is  in  sore  trouble 
...  I,  his  Friend,  would  wish  to  help  him,  and 
cannot  do  this  without  your  Aid.  Will  You — will 
You  grant  me  this  Aid,  Sir,"  she  queried  shyly,  "  if 
I  beg  it  of  You?" 

"  Your  Ladyship  has  but  to  command,"  he 
answered  vaguely,  for,  in  truth,  his  whole  Mind 
was  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  her  Love- 
liness. 

"  'Twas  You,"  she  asserted  boldly,  "  who  begged 
for  his  Lordship's  pardon  from  the  Countess  of 
Castlemaine  .  .  .  'Twas  not  he  who  betrayed  his 
Friends.  That  is  a  Fact,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  A  Fact.    Yes,"  he  replied. 

"  Then  I  pray  you,  Sir,  write  that  down,"  she 
pleaded,  with  an  ingenuous,  childish  Gesture,  "  and 
sign  it  with  your  Name  .  .  .  just  to  please  me." 

She  looked  like  a  lovely  Child  begging  for  a  Toy. 
To  think  of  Guile  in  connection  with  those  Eyes, 
with  that  Smile,  seemed  almost  a  Sacrilege.  And 
my  poor  Friend  was  so  desperately  infatuated  just 
then!  Has  any  Man  ever  realized  that  Woman  is 
fooling  him,  when  she  really  sets  her  Wiles  to 
entrap  him?  Surely  not  a  Man  of  Mr.  Betterton's 
keen,  artistic  and  hot-blooded  Temperament.  I  saw 
it  all  now,  yet  I  dared  not  move.  For  one  thing, 
the  time  had  gone  by  when  I  might  have  done  it  with 
good  Effect.  Now  it  was  too  late.  Any  inter- 
ference on  my  part  would  only  have  led  to  Ignominy 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    281 

for  myself  and  the  severance  of  a  Friendship  that 
I  valued  more  than  Life  itself.  Betwixt  a  Friend's 
warning  and  a  Woman's  Cajolery,  what  Man  would 
hesitate?  What  could  I,  in  any  event,  have  done 
now,  save  to  hold  up  the  inevitable  Catastrophe  for 
a  few  Moments — a  few  Seconds,  perhaps?  Truly, 
my  hour  was  past.  I  could  but  wait  now  in  Silence 
and  Misery  until  the  End. 

There  she  sat,  pleading,  speaking  that  eternal 
Phrase,  which  since  the  beginning  of  primeval  times 
hath  been  used  by  wily  Woman  for  the  undoing  of  a 
generous-minded  Man. 

"Will  You  do  this,  Sir — just  to  please  me?" 

"  I  swear  to  You  that  it  shall  be  done,"  he  re- 
joined with  passionate  fervour.  "  But  will  you  not 
let  me  tell  you  first " 

"  No ! — No !  "  she  said  quickly,  clasping  her  deli- 
cate hands.  "  I  pray  You — not  just  yet.  I — I  so 
long  to  see  You  write  .  .  .  there  ...  at  this 
Desk,  where  lie  piled  letters  from  every  illustrious 
Person  and  every  crowned  Head  in  Europe.  And 
now  You  will  write,"  she  entreated,  in  the  tone  of  an 
indulged  and  wayward  Child.  "  You  will  ?  Just 
one  little  Document  for  me,  because  .  .  .  because 
You  say  You  love  me,  and  .  .  .  because  .  .  . 
I  ..." 

"  Barbara !  "  he  cried  in  an  Ecstasy  of  Happiness. 
"My  Beloved!" 

He  was  on  the  point  of  falling  on  his  Knees,  but 
once  more  a  demure  Gesture,  a  drawing  back  of  her 
whole  Figure,  restrained  him. 


282      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  No !  No !  "  she  reiterated  firmly.  "  When  you 

have  written,  I  will  listen "  — another  Glance, 

and  he  was  vanquished.  Then  she  completed  her 
Phrase — "  to  all  you  have  to  say." 

He  drew  back  with  a  sigh,  and  took  up  his  Pen. 

"  As  you  command,"  he  said  simply,  and  made 
ready  to  write. 

3 

Even  now,  whene'er  I  close  mine  Eyes,  I  can  see 
those  twain  as  a  vivid  Picture  before  me.  The 
Massive  Desk,  littered  with  papers,  the  Candles 
flickering  in  their  Sconces,  illumining  with  their 
elusive  Light  the  Figure  of  the  great  Actor,  sitting 
with  shoulders  slightly  bent  forward,  one  Arm  rest- 
ing upon  the  Desk,  half  buried  in  the  filmy  folds  of 
her  Ladyship's  Veil,  his  Face  upturned  towards  the 
Enchantress,  who  held  him  at  this  Hour  an  absolute 
Slave  to  her  Will.  She  had  risen  from  her  Chair 
and  stood  immediately  behind  him ;  her  Face  I  could 
not  see,  for  her  back  was  towards  me,  but  the  light 
caught  the  loose  Tendrils  of  her  fair  Hair,  and  from 
where  I  stood  watching,  this  looked  just  like  a 
golden  Aureole  around  her  small  Head,  bent  slightly 
towards  him.  She  too  was  leaning  forward,  over 
him,  with  her  Hand  extended,  giving  him  Directions 
as  to  what  he  should  write. 

"  Oh,  I  pray  You,"  she  said  with  an  impatient 
little  Sigh,  "  do  not  delay !  I  will  watch  You  as  You 
write.  I  pray  You  write  it  as  a  Message  addressed 
to  the  Court  of  White  Hall.  Not  in  Poetry,"  she 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS         283 

added,  with  a  nervous  little  Laugh;  "but  in  Prose, 
so  that  all  may  understand." 

He  bent  to  his  task  and  began  to  write,  and  she 
straightened  out  her  elegant  Figure  and  murmured, 
as  if  oppressed :  "  How  hot  this  room  is !  " 

Slowly,  as  if  in  Absence  of  Mind,  She  wandered 
towards  the  Window. 

"  I  have  heard  it  said,"  she  remarked,  "  that  Mr. 
Betterton's  worst  enemy  is  the  cold.  But  a  fire! 
...  on  such  a  glorious  Evening.  The  first  Kiss 
of  awakening  Spring." 

She  had  reached  the  Window  now,  and  stood  for 
awhile  in  the  Bay,  leaning  against  the  Mullion;  and 
I  could  not  help  but  admire  her  Duplicity  and  her 
Pluck.  For,  indeed,  She  had  risked  Everything  that 
Woman  holds  most  dear,  for  the  sake  of  the  Man 
she  loved.  And  She  could  not  help  but  know  that 
She  herself  and  her  fair  Name  would  anon  be  at 
the  mercy  of  a  Man  whom  her  Cajoleries  and  her 
Trickery  would  have  rendered  desperate. 

Anon,  as  if  quite  overcome  by  the  Heat,  she  threw 
open  the  Casement,  and  then  leaned  out,  peering  into 
the  Darkness  beyond.  Ensconced  in  my  Corner  at 
some  distance  from  the  Window,  I  was  conscious 
of  the  Movement  and  subdued  Noise  which  came  up 
from  the  still  crowded  Park.  A  number  of  People 
appeared  to  be  moving  out  there,  and  even  as  I 
strained  my  Ears  to  listen,  I  caught  the  sweet  sound 
of  the  selfsame  Song  of  awhile  ago,  wafted  hither 
on  the  cool  night  Air: 


284      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"You  are  my  Life!    You  ask  me  why? 
Because  my  Hope  is  in  Your  Love." 

I  caught  myself  marvelling  if  the  Ladies  and 
Gallants  of  the  Court  had  strolled  out  into  the  Park 
at  this  hour,  drawn  thither  by  the  amorous  Melodies 
sung  by  the  unknown  Minstrel ;  or  by  the  balmy  Air 
of  Spring;  or  merely  by  the  passing  Whim  of  some 
new  Fashion  or  Fancy.  I  even  strained  my  Ears 
so  that  I  might  recognise  the  sound  of  Voices  that 
were  familiar  to  me.  I  heard  my  Lord  of 
Rochester's  characteristic  Laugh,  Sir  William 
Davenant's  dictatorial  tones  and  the  high-pitched 
Cackle  of  Mr.  Killigrew. 

So  doth  our  Mind  oft  dwell  on  trivial  Thoughts 
at  times  of  gravest  Stress.  Her  Ladyship  had  sat 
down  on  a  low  Stool  beside  the  Window.  I  could 
only  see  the  vague  outline  of  her — the  Expression 
of  her  Face,  the  very  Poise  of  her  Head,  were  wrapt 
in  the  surrounding  Gloom. 

For  awhile  there  was  perfect  Silence  in  the  Room, 
save  for  the  monotonous  ticking  of  the  old  Clock 
and  the  scratching  of  Mr.  Betterton's  Pen  as  he 
wrote  with  a  rapid  and  unhesitating  Hand. 

The  Minutes  sped  on,  and  anon  he  had  completed 
his  Task.  I  saw  him  lay  down  his  Pen,  then  raise 
the  Paper  and  read  through  very  carefully  all  that 
he  had  written,  and  finally  strew  Sand  upon  the 
momentous  Document.  For  awhile  after  that  he 
remained  perfectly  still,  and  I  observed  his  clear-cut 
Face,  with  Eyes  fixed  as  it  were  inwards  into  his 
own  Soul,  and  sensitive  Lips  pressed  tightly  one 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    285 

against  the  other.  The  Hand  which  held  the  Docu- 
ment was  perfectly  steady,  an  obedient  slave  to  his 
Will.  And  yet  that  Sign-manual,  as  directed  by  her 
Ladyship,  was  a  direct  Avowal  of  a  dastardly  Deed, 
of  the  gratuitous  Slandering  of  an  innocent  Man's 
Honour,  without  Provocation  or  Justification,  seeing 
that  no  mention  was  made  in  the  Confession  of  the 
abominable  Outrage  which  had  brought  about  this 
grim  Retaliation,  or  of  the  Refusal  on  the  part  of 
his  Lordship  to  grant  the  Satisfaction  that  is  custo- 
mary between  Gentlemen.  It  was,  in  fact,  his  own 
Integrity  and  his  own  Honour  that  the  eminent 
Actor  was  even  now  bartering  for  a  Woman's  Love. 
This  will  prove  to  You,  dear  Mistress,  that  Mr. 
Betterton's  Love  for  the  Lady  Barbara  Wychwoode 
did  not  at  any  time  resemble  true  Affection,  which, 
of  all  the  Passions  to  which  the  human  Heart  is  apt 
to  become  Slave,  is  the  one  that  leads  the  Mind  to 
the  highest  and  noblest  Thoughts;  whereas  an  In- 
fatuation can  only  be  compared  to  a  Fever.  Man 
hath  no  more  control  over  the  one  than  he  hath  over 
the  other,  and  cannot  curb  its  Violence  or  the 
Duration  of  its  Attack. 


The  next  thing  that  I  remember  most  clearly  is 
seeing  Mr.  Betterton  put  the  fateful  Paper  down 
again,  take  up  her  Ladyship's  Veil  and  bury  his  Face 
in  its  cloudy  Folds.  I  heard  him  murmur  faintly, 
after  awhile : 


286      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

"  Now,  if  I  dared,  I  would  believe  myself  almost 
happy !  " 

Then  he  rose,  picked  up  the  Paper,  and  with  it 
went  up  to  the  Lady  Barbara. 

"  'Tis  done,  as  you  did  command,"  he  said  quite 
quietly,  and  placed  the  Document  in  her  Hand.  She 
took  it  from  him  and  rose  to  her  Feet. 

"  A  Light,  I  pray  You,"  she  said  coldly. 

He  brought  one  of  the  Candles  across  and  stood 
beside  her,  holding  it  aloft.  She  read  the  Paper 
through  with  great  Deliberation,  nodding  Approval 
from  time  to  time  as  she  did  so.  Then  she  folded 
it  into  a  very  small  Compass,  while  she  thanked  him 
coldly  and  guardedly.  He  then  went  back  to  the 
Desk  with  the  Candle  and  put  it  down.  During 
these  few  Seconds,  whilst  his  back  was  turned  to 
her,  I  noticed  that  the  Lady  Barbara  took  a  heavy, 
jewelled  Brooch  from  her  Gown  and  fastened  it  by 
its  pin  to  the  Document.  Her  movements  were 
methodical  but  very  quick,  and  my  own  Mind 
worked  too  slowly  to  guess  at  her  Intention. 

The  next  moment,  Mr.  Betterton  was  once  more 
by  her  side.  Eager,  alert,  and  with  the  glow  of 
Triumph  in  his  Eyes,  he  flung  himself  at  her  Feet. 
She  was  his  now ! — his  by  Right  of  Conquest !  He 
had  won  her  by  measureless  Self -Sacrifice,  and  now 
he  meant  to  hold  the  Guerdon  for  which  he  had  paid 
so  heavy  a  Price. 

"  Because  you  deigned  to  cross  this  humble 
Threshold,"  he  said,  and  his  arms  encircled  her 
Waist  with  the  masterful  and  passionate  Gesture 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    287 

of  a  Victor,  "  the  poor  Actor  places  his  Name  and 
Fame,  his  Pride  and  baffled  Revenge,  at  your  feet." 

"At  the  World's  Feet,  Sir  Mountebank!"  she 
cried  exultantly,  and  with  a  swift  movement  she 
flung  the  weighted  Paper  far  out  through  the 
Window.  Then,  leaning  out  into  the  Darkness,  she 
called  at  the  top  of  her  Voice :  "  To  me,  Adela ! 
Here  is  the  Message  from  Mr.  Betterton.  Take  it 
to  my  Lord  Sidbury  at  once !  " 

But  Mr.  Betterton  was  no  longer  in  a  mental  State 
to  care  what  happened  after  this;  I  doubt  if  he 
realized  just  what  was  impending.  He  was  still  on 
his  Knees,  holding  on  to  her  with  both  Arms. 

"  Nay !  "  he  said  wildly.  "  That  is  as  You  please. 
Let  the  whole  World  think  me  base  and  abject. 
What  care  I  for  Honour,  Fame  or  Integrity  now 
that  You  are  here,  and  that  You  will  be  my  Wife  ?  " 

Ah!  the  poor,  deluded  Fool!  How  could  he  be 
so  blind?  Already  the  Lady  Barbara  had  turned 
on  him  with  flashing  Eyes,  and  a  loud,  hysterical 
Laugh  of  measureless  Contempt  broke  from  her 
Lips. 

"  Your  Wife!"  she  exclaimed,  and  that  harsh 
laugh  echoed  through  the  Silence  of  the  House. 
"  So,  Mr.  Actor,  you  thought  to  entrap  the  Daughter 
of  the  Marquis  of  Sidbury  into  becoming  your 
Wife!  .  .  .  Nay!  you  miserable  Fool!  'Twas  I 
entrapped  and  cheated  you.  .  .  .  Your  Wife! 
Ye  Saints  in  Heaven,  hear  him !  His  Wife !  The 
Wife  of  Thomas  Betterton,  the  Mountebank!! 
I!!!" 


288      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Her  Words,  her  Laughter,  the  Bitterness  of  her 
Contempt,  stung  him  like  a  Whip-lash.  In  an  in- 
stant, he  was  on  his  Feet,  staggered  back  till  he 
came  in  contact  with  the  Desk,  to  which  he  clung 
with  both  hands,  while  he  faced  her,  his  Cheeks 
pale  as  Ashes,  his  Eyes  glowing  with  a  Light  that 
appeared  almost  maniacal. 

"  You  cheated  me  ?  "  he  murmured  inarticulately. 
"You  lied  to  me?  .  .  .  You  .  .  .  I'll  not  be- 
lieve it  .  .  .  I'll  not  believe  it.  ..." 

She  appeared  not  to  heed  him,  was  gazing  out  of 
the  Window,  shouting  directions  to  some  one — her 
waiting-maid,  no  doubt,  or  other  Confidante — who 
was  searching  for  the  Paper  down  below. 

"  There,  Adela !  "  she  called  out  eagerly.  "  Dost 
see  .  .  .  just  by  those  bushes  .  .  .  something 
white  .  .  .  my  brooch.  .  .  .  Dost  see  ? " 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  Cry  of  Triumph,  and  then 
turned  back  exultantly  to  her  baffled  Foe. 

"  My  maid,"  she  said,  somewhat  wildly,  and  pant- 
ing as  if  she  were  exhausted  with  fast  running. 
"  We  had  planned  it  all  ...  She  is  devoted  to  me 
.  .  .  She  has  been  on  the  Watch  .  .  .  She  has 
the  paper  now  .  .  .  There !  "  she  added,  and  with 
outstretched  arm  pointed  out  into  the  Gloom  be- 
yond. "  There ;  Do  you  see  ?  " 

Can  You  wonder  that  her  Trickery,  her  Contempt 
had  made  him  mad  ?  Indeed,  even  I  felt  that  at  that 
moment  I  could  have  held  her  slender  throat  between 
my  two  Hands  and  crushed  the  Life  out  of  her.  To 
a  Man  of  Mr.  Betterton's  temperament,  the  Provo- 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    289 

cation  was  obviously  beyond  his  Powers  of  Endu- 
rance. Even  in  the  dim  Light,  I  could  see  a  positive 
Fury  of  Passion  akin  to  Hate  literally  distorting  his 
Face.  The  next  second  he  was  once  more  by  her 
side,  and  whilst  she  still  cried  wildly :  "  Do  you  see  ? 
Do  you  see?  Run,  Adela,  run! "  he  seized  her  in 
his  arms  and  retorted  roughly : 

"  I  see  nothing  now  but  your  Beauty,  and  that 
has  made  me  mad." 

"  Run,  Adela !  Run !  "  she  cried  again.  "  That 
message  from  Mr.  Betterton  is  for  the  whole  World 
to  see ! " 

But  he  held  her  tightly  round  the  Shoulders  now, 
and  she,  probably  realizing  her  Danger  for  the  first 
time,  strove  to  struggle  against  his  Embrace. 

"  Let  me  go !  "  she  commanded.  "  Let  me  go ! 
or  I  swear  by  God  in  Heaven  that  I  will  find  the 
Strength  to  kill  myself  and  You." 

"  I  love  You,"  was  his  only  reply  to  her  Threat. 
"  Nay !  "  he  added,  speaking  in  rapid,  jerky  Phrases, 
the  while  she  continued  to  struggle  with  ever  grow- 
ing loss  of  Power.  "  You  shall  kill  me  later  if  You 
will,  but  not  till  I  have  lived.  My  Dear,  my  Love, 
my  Saint !  Have  I  not  worshipped  you  for  days  and 
months?  Have  I  not  held  You  in  Dream  in  my 
Arms  ?  You  are  my  Muse,  my  Divinity,  my  Hope ! 
Mine!  Mine!  Exquisite,  adorable  Lady  Barbara! 
No!  No!  You  cannot  escape,  struggle  how  You 
might.  This  is  my  hour !  'Tis  you  who  gave  it  me, 
and  I  defy  Heaven  itself  to  rob  me  of  a  single 
instant ! " 


290      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

My  God !  what  could  I  do  ?  More  and  more  did 
I  curse  the  Folly  and  Cowardice  which  had  kept  me 
riveted  to  this  Spot  all  this  while.  Now  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  reveal  my  Presence,  to  draw 
upon  my  foolish  Head  the  Contempt  and  Anger  of  a 
Man  for  whom  I  would  gladly  have  laid  down  my 
Life.  My  Brain  became  confused.  I  ceased  to  see 
clearly.  A  ruddy  Mist  was  gathering  before  my 
Eyes.  I  was  on  the  Verge  of  losing  Consciousness 
and  was  struggling  pitifully  to  retain  Command  over 
my  Senses.  Through  this  fast  approaching  Swoon 
I  could  hear,  as  through  an  intervening  Veil,  the 
hoarse  and  broken  Accents  of  the  Voice  that  I  loved 
so  well : 

"You  are  here  alone  with  me.  The  last  shred 
of  my  Reason  is  scattered  to  the  Winds.  England, 
Fame,  the  World,  are  empty  Words  to  me.  Do  you 
not  see  that  now  I  am  ready  to  die  an  hundred 
Deaths,  for  at  last  I  shall  have  lived  ...  I  shall 
have  held  You  in  my  Arms." 

And  one  great  and  pitiful  Appeal  from  her  Lips : 
"Oh,  God!  If  there  is  Justice  in  Heaven — defend 
me  now " 

And,  even  half  conscious  as  I  was,  I  saw  her — 
yes,  saw  her  quite  distinctly  give  a  sudden  wrench 
which  freed  her  right  Arm.  She  plunged  her  Hand 
into  the  bosom  of  her  Gown,  and  the  next  instant 
the  flickering  light  of  the  Candle  flashed  a  vivid 
gleam  upon  the  narrow  steel  blade  of  a  dagger 
which  she  held.  This,  with  the  swiftness  of  light- 
ning, brought  me  back  to  the  Consciousness  of  the 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    291 

present,  grim  Reality.  With  a  loud  and  sudden  Cry, 
I  darted  out  of  my  Hiding  Place  and  stood  there 
before  them  both,  pale  no  doubt  with  a  well-nigh 
unearthly  Pallor,  which  must  have  given  me  the 
Appearance  of  a  Ghost. 

It  was  now  the  Lady  Barbara  whr»  was  nigh  to 
Swooning.  But,  with  that  coolness  which  comes  at 
times  to  the  Helpless  and  the  Weak,  I  had  already 
snatched  her  Veil  from  the  Desk,  and  whilst  she 
tottered  and  almost  fell  into  my  Arms,  I  wrapped 
it  around  her  Head. 

"  Quick!  The  Door!  "  I  said.  "  You  are  quite 
safe!" 

I  dared  not  look  at  Mr.  Betterton.  Indeed,  I 
could  not  even  now  tell  You  in  what  Attitude  or 
with  what  Expression  of  Face  he  watched  me  whilst 
I  seemed  thus  to  take  Command  of  the  Situation. 
The  Lady  Barbara  was  trembling  so  violently  that 
some  few  moments  elapsed  before  she  was  able  to 
walk  across  the  Room.  When  she  finally  did  so, 
her  Foot  kicked  against  the  Dagger  which  had 
dropped  from  her  Hand  when  I  so  suddenly  ap- 
peared before  her.  She  gave  a  faint  Cry  of  Horror, 
and  I  stooped  and  picked  up  the  Dagger  and  placed 
it  back  in  her  Hand  without  looking  at  her. 

5 

Her  Ladyship  then  went  on  towards  the  door. 
But  suddenly  she  came  to  a  halt,  and  I,  who  was 
close  to  her  heels,  paused  likewise,  for  I  felt  that 
every  drop  of  Blood  within  me  had  turned  to  Ice. 


292      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

From  the  Hall  below  there  had  come  the  sound  of 
angry  Altercation  and  a  Man's  voice  was  raised 
loudly  and  peremptorily,  saying: 

"  Let  me  pass,  man !  I  will  speak  with  Mr. 
Betterton." 

The  voice  was  that  of  my  Lord  Stour. 

The  Lady  Barbara  stood  quite  still  for  a  moment, 
rigid  as  a  carved  Statue.  Then  a  low,  inexpressibly 
pathetic  Moan  rose  to  her  Lips. 

"  Oh !  for  the  Earth  to  open !  "  she  cried  pitiably, 
"  and  bury  me  and  this  Shame " 

She  was  overwrought  and  weak  with  Emotion, 
but  in  any  Event  it  was  a  terrible  Position  for  any 
Lady  of  Rank  to  be  found  in,  at  this  late  hour,  and 
alone.  Overcome  no  doubt  with  the  superabun- 
dance of  harrowing  Sensations,  she  tottered  as  if 
about  to  swoon.  Mr.  Betterton  caught  her  as  she 
fell. 

"  My  Divinity !  My  Queen !  "  he  murmured 
quickly.  "  No  one  shall  harm  you,  I  swear  it !  No 
one  shall ! "  Then  he  added  under  his  breath : 
"  Heaven  above  me,  help  me  to  protect  her !  " 

Whereupon  he  lifted  her  up  in  his  Arms  as  if 
she  were  a  Child,  and  carried  her  as  far  as  the 
Embrasure  of  the  Window.  Then,  with  one  of 
those  quick  movements  which  were  so  characteristic 
of  him,  he  drew  the  Curtains  together,  which  shut 
off  the  Bay  from  the  rest  of  the  Room  and  screened 
its  fair  Occupant  completely  from  view. 

He  was  a  different  Man  now  to  the  Passion- 
racked  Creature  of  awhile  ago;  absolutely  calm;  the 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    293 

Man  I  had  known  and  loved  and  respected  all  these 
years.  Though  my  whole  Being  was  still  convulsed 
in  an  Agony  of  Apprehension,  I  felt  that  from  him 
now  would  come  moral  Comfort  for  me  and  Pro- 
tection for  the  unfortunate  Lady,  whose  Burden  of 
Sorrow  had  at  last  touched  his  Heart.  And  I  do 
verily  believe,  dear  Lady,  that  in  that  Instant  of 
supreme  Danger  for  us  all,  his  Passion  fell  from  him 
like  a  Curtain  from  before  his  Eyes.  It  had  gone 
through  its  culminating  Anguish  when  he  discovered 
that  she  whom  he  loved  had  lied  to  him  and  cheated 
him.  Now,  when  she  stood  here  before  him,  utterly 
helpless  and  utterly  crushed,  his  Infatuation  ap- 
peared to  writhe  for  one  Moment  in  the  Crucible  of 
his  own  Manliness  and  Chivalry,  and  then  to  emerge 
therefrom  hallowed  and  purified. 


In  the  meanwhile,  less  than  a  minute  had  elapsed. 
My  Lord  Stour  had  ascended  the  Stairs,  undeterred 
by  the  Protestations  of  Mr.  Betterton's  Servant. 
The  next  moment  he  had  violently  wrenched  the 
Door  open  and  now  stood  before  us,  pale,  trembling 
with  Rage  or  Excitement,  hatless,  his  Mantle 
thrown  back  from  his  Shoulders.  His  right  Hand 
clutched  his  naked  Sword,  and  in  his  Left  he  had 
a  crushed  ball  of  paper,  held  together  by  her  Lady- 
ship's brooch.  His  entire  Attitude  was  one  of  firm 
and  deadly  Menace. 

"  I  heard  a  Voice !  "  he  exclaimed,  staring  wildly 
around  him.  "  I  saw  a  Face — a  Form.  .  This 


294      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Paper  was  flung  out  from  yonder  Window  .  .  . 
was  picked  up  by  a  serving  Wench.  .  .  .  What 
does  it  mean  ?  "  he  queried  harshly,  and  advanced 
threateningly  towards  Mr.  Betterton,  who  was 
standing  midway  between  him  and  the  curtained 
Bay. 

"  How  can  I  tell  ? "  riposted  the  great  Actor 
blandly,  with  a  careless  Shrug  of  his  Shoulders.  "  I 
was  not  moon-gazing,  as  your  Lordship  appears  to 
have  done.  A  paper,  did  You  say?  " 

"  You  are  not  alone,"  retorted  my  Lord  roughly. 
"  I  heard  a  voice  .  .  .  just  now.  ..." 

"  We  are  all  apt  to  hear  voices  in  the  moonlight, 
my  Lord,"  Mr.  Betterton  rejoined  simply.  "  The 
Artist  hears  his  Muse,  the  Lover  his  Mistress,  the 
Criminal  his  Conscience." 

His  unruffled  calm  seemed  to  exasperate  his  Lord- 
ship's fury,  for  he  now  appeared  even  more  men- 
acing than  before. 

"  And  did  You  perchance  hear  a  Voice  to-night, 
Sir  Actor,"  he  queried,  his  voice  hoarse  with  Pas- 
sion, "  warning  You  of  Death?  " 

"Nay!"  replied  Mr.  Betterton.  "That  Voice 
whispers  to  Us  all,  and  always,  my  Lord,  even  in 
our  Cradles." 

"  Then  hear  it  for  the  last  time  now,  and  from  my 
Lips,  you  abominable  Mountebank!  "  my  Lord  cried, 
beside  himself  in  truth.  "  For  unless  You  draw 
aside  that  Curtain,  I  am  going  to  kill  You." 

"  That  is  as  you  please,"  retorted  Mr.  Betterton 
simply. 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    295 

"  Stand  aside !  "  commanded  his  Lordship. 

But  Mr.  Betterton  looked  him  calmly  up  and 
down  and  did  not  move  one  inch. 

"  This  is  a  most  unwarrantable  Interference,"  he 
said  quietly,  "  with  the  Freedom  of  His  Majesty's 
well-beloved  Servant.  Your  Lordship  seems  to  for- 
get that  every  inch  of  this  Floor  is  mine,  and  that  I 
stand  on  it  where  I  please.  I  pray  you,  take  that 
Paper — that  Message — elsewhere.  An  it  came 
down  from  Heaven,  read  it — but  leave  me  in 
Peace/'  . 

"I'll  not  go,"  asserted  my  Lord  harshly,  "till 
you  have  drawn  aside  that  Curtain." 

"  Then  we'll  see  whose  Legs  will  weary  first,  nly 
Lord,  yours  or  mine,"  was  Mr.  Betterton' s  unruffled 
rejoinder. 

"Draw  then  and  defend  yourself!"  cried  my 
Lord,  who  before  his  Enemy's  unbroken  Calm,  had 
lost  what  Semblance  of  Self -Control  he  still  pos- 
sessed. 

"  I  am  unarmed,"  riposted  Mr.  Betterton  simply. 

"  Then  let  Satan  have  his  due,"  exclaimed  the 
young  Hothead,  and  raised  his  Sword  ready  to 
strike,  "  for  your  Soul  shall  go  down  to  Hell  at 
last!" 

In  a  moment,  of  course,  I  was  on  him.  But  he 
had  the  vigour  of  a  trained  Soldier,  enhanced  by  an 
overwhelming  Passion  of  Enmity  and  of  Rage;  and 
though  I  seized  him  unawares — I  doubt  if  he  had 
realized  that  I  was  in  the  Room — he  shook  me  off 
in  an  instant,  as  a  Dog  might  shake  off  an  importu- 


296      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

nate  Rat.  Before  I  had  time  to  recover  my  breath 
from  his  quick  and  furious  Defence,  he  had  turned 
on  me  and  dealt  me  such  a  vigorous  Blow  with  his 
Fist  between  the  Eyes,  that  the  whole  Room  began 
to  gyrate  around  me  and  the  Atmosphere  became 
peopled  with  Stars.  I  staggered  and  half  fell 
against  the  Dresser  that  had  sheltered  me  awhile 
ago.  For  the  space  of  half  a  dozen  seconds  mine 
Eyes  were  closed. 

7 

When  I  opened  them  again,  the  Scene  had  indeed 
changed.  Her  Ladyship  had  pushed  the  Curtains 
aside  and  stood  there  in  the  window  Embrasure, 
revealed  to  her  irate  Lover.  And  he,  though  he 
must  have  known  that  she  was  there  all  the  Time, 
appeared  so  staggered  by  her  Apparition  that  his 
Arm  dropped  by  his  side  and  his  Sword  fell  with  a 
clatter  to  the  Ground,  while  he  murmured  as  if  in 
the  last  Throes  of  mental  Suffering: 

"  Barbara  .  .  .  my  Barbara  .  .  .  here — alone 
— at  night  .  .  .  with  this  Man!  ..." 

Her  Ladyship,  however,  appeared  perfectly  com- 
posed. The  light  of  the  Candles  revealed  her  ex- 
quisite Face,  pale  but  serene,  and  her  small  Head 
crowned  with  the  Aureole  of  her  golden  Hair,  held 
up  proudly  as  one  who  hath  naught  to  fear,  naught 
for  which  she  need  be  ashamed.  She  pointed  with 
perfect  steadiness  to  the  Paper  which  my  Lord  still 
held  tightly  clasped  in  his  left  Hand. 

"  That  paper !  "  she  said,  and  only  a  slight  veiling 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    297 

of  her  Voice  betrayed  the  Emotion  which  she  felt. 
"  I  sent  it.  Tis  for  you,  my  Lord.  It  will  clear 
your  Honour,  and  proclaim  your  Innocence." 

But  his  Lordship  did  not  appear  to  hear  her.  He 
continued  to  murmur  to  himself  mechanically,  arid 
in  tones  of  the  deepest  Despair : 

"  Barbara  .    .    .   alone  .    .    .  with  him ! " 

"  Read  that  Paper,  my  dear  Lord,"  her  Ladyship 
insisted  with  calm  dignity,  "  ere  with  another 
Thought  you  further  dare  to  wrong  me !  " 

These  simple  Words,  however,  so  full  of  con- 
scious Worth  and  of  Innocence,  let  loose  the  Flood- 
gates of  my  Lord's  pent-up,  insensate  jealousy. 

"Wrong  you!"  he  cried,  and  a  harsh,  almost 
maniacal  laugh  broke  from  his  choking  Throat. 
"  Wrong  you !  Nay !  I  suppose  I  must  be  grateful 
and  thank  Heaven  on  my  Knees  that  You,  my 
promised  Bride,  deigned  to  purchase  mine  Honour 
at  the  Price  of  your  Kisses ! " 

At  this  gross  Insult  her  Ladyship  uttered  a  pitiful 
Moan;  but  ere  she  could  give  Reply,  Mr.  Betterton, 
who  hitherto  had  not  interfered  between  the  Twain, 
now  did  so,  and  in  no  measured  Tone. 

"  Silence,  Madman !  "  he  commanded,  "  ere  You 
blaspheme." 

But  my  Lord  had  apparently  lost  his  last  Shred 
of  Reason.  Jealousy  was  torturing  him  in  a  man- 
ner that  even  Hatred  had  failed  to  do. 

"  God ! "  he  exclaimed  repeatedly,  calling  to  the 
Almighty  to  witness  his  Soul-Misery.  "  I  saw  her 
at  that  Window.  .  Who  else  saw  her?  . 


298     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

How  many  Varlets  and  jabbering  Coxcombs  know 
at  the  present  moment  that  the  Lady  Barbara  Wych- 
woode  spends  the  night  alone  with  a  Mountebank  ?  " 
In  an  excess  of  ungoverned  Rage  he  tore  the  Paper 
to  shreds  and  threw  the  Scraps  almost  into  her 
Ladyship's  Face.  "Take  back  your  Proofs!"  he 
cried.  "  I'll  not  take  mine  Honour  from  Your 
hands!  Ah !  "  he  added,  and  now  turned  once  more 
toward  Mr.  Betterton,  who,  I  could  see,  was  calmly 
making  up  his  Mind  what  next  to  do.  "  Whoever 
you  are — Man  or  Devil — are  you  satisfied  with  your 
Revenge?  Was  it  not  enough  to  cover  me  with 
Infamy;  what  need  had  You  to  brand  Her  with 
Dishonour  ?  " 

Overcome  with  Emotion,  his  Soul  on  the  Rack, 
his  Heart  wounded  and  bleeding,  he  appeared  like  a 
lost  Spirit  crying  out  from  an  Abyss  of  Torment. 
But  these  last  Ravings  of  his,  these  final,  abominable 
Insults,  levelled  against  the  Woman  who  had  done 
so  much  for  him,  and  whom  he  should  have  been  the 
first  to  protect,  lashed  Mr.  Betterton's  ire  and  con- 
tempt into  holy  Fury. 

"  Ye  gods  in  Heaven,  hear  him !  "  he  cried,  with 
an  outburst  of  Rage  at  least  as  great  as  that  of  the 
other  Man.  "  He  loves  her,  and  talks  of  Dishonour, 
whilst  I  love  her  and  only  breathe  of  Worship! 
By  all  the  Devils  in  Hell,  my  Lord  Stour,  I  tell  you 
that  you  lie !  " 

And  before  any  of  us  there  realized  what  he 
meant  to  do,  he  ran  to  the  Window,  threw  open  all 
the  Casements  with  such  violence  that  the  glass 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    299 

broke  and  fell  clattering  down  upon  the  gravelled 
place  below. 

"  Hallo ! "  he  called  in  a  stentorian  Voice. 
"Hallo,  there!" 

My  Lord  Stour,  bewildered,  un-understanding, 
tried  to  bluster. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  man  ? "  he  queried 
roughly.  "  Silence !  Silence,  I  say !  " 

But  Mr.  Betterton  only  shouted  the  louder. 

"Hallo,  there!  Friends!  Enemies!  England! 
Here!" 

I  could  hear  the  Tumult  outside.  People  were 
running  hither  from  several  directions,  thinking,  no 
doubt,  that  a  Fire  had  broken  out  or  that  Murder 
was  being  done.  I  could  hear  them  assembling  be- 
neath the  window,  which  was  not  many  feet  from 
the  Ground.  "  Why !  it's  Tom  Betterton !  "  some  of 
them  said.  And  others  added:  "Hath  he  gone 
raving  mad  ?  " 

"  Is  any  one  there  who  knows  me  ?  "  queried  Mr. 
Betterton  loudly. 

"  Yes !    Yes !  "  was  the  ready  response. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  peering  into  the  darkness 
below. 

I  heard  Sir  William  Davenant's  voice  give  reply. 

"  Killigrew  and  I  are  down  here,  Tom.  What  in 
the  Name  of is  the  matter?  " 

"  Come  round  to  my  rooms,  Davenant,"  Mr.  Bet- 
terton replied ;  "  and  bring  as  many  friends  with  you 
as  you  can." 

He  was  standing  in  the  Bay  of  the  Window,  and 


300      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

his  Figure,  silhouetted  against  the  Light  in  the 
Room,  must  have  been  plainly  visible  to  the  crowd 
outside.  That  a  number  of  People  had  assembled  by 
now  was  apparent  by  the  Hum  and  Hubbub  which 
came  to  us  from  below.  Unable  to  restrain  my 
Curiosity,  I  too  approached  the  open  Casements  and 
peered  out  into  the  Gloom.  Just  as  I  thought,  quite 
a  Crowd  had  collected  down  there,  some  of  whom 
were  making  ready  to  climb  up  to  the  Window  by 
way  of  the  Gutter-pipes  or  the  solid  stems  of  the 
Ivy,  whilst  others  were  trooping  down  the  narrow 
little  Alley  which  connects  Tothill  Street  with  the 
Park  at  the  base  of  Mr.  Betterton's  house.  There 
was  a  deal  of  talking,  laughing  and  shouting. 
"  Tom  Betterton  is  up  to  some  Prank,"  I  heard 
more  than  one  Person  say. 

8 

Perhaps  You  will  wonder  what  was  my  Lord's 
Attitude  during  the  few  minutes — it  was  less  than 
five — which  elapsed  between  the  Instant  when  Mr. 
Betterton  first  threw  open  the  Casements,  and  that 
when  the  Crowd,  headed  by  Sir  William  Davenant 
and  Mr.  Killigrew,  trooped  down  the  Alley  on  their 
Way  to  this  House.  To  me  he  seemed  at  first 
wholly  uncomprehending,  like  a  Man  who  has  re- 
ceived a  Blow  on  the  Head — just  as  I  did  from  his 
Fist  a  moment  ago — and  before  whose  Eyes  the 
Walls  of  the  Room,  the  Furniture,  the  People,  are 
all  swimming  in  an  Ocean  of  Stars.  I  imagine  that 
at  one  time  the  Thought  flashed  as  Lightning 


MORE  DEAF  THAN  ADDERS    301 

through  his  Mind  that  this  was  but  the  culminating 
Outrage,  wherewith  his  Enemy  meant  to  pillory  him 
and  his  Bride  before  a  jeering  Public.  That  was 
the  moment  when  he  turned  to  her  Ladyship  and, 
uttering  a  hoarse  Cry,  called  to  her  by  Name.  She 
was,  just  then,  leaning  in  semi-consciousness  against 
the  Angle  of  the  Bay.  She  did  not  respond  to  his 
Call,  and  Mr.  Betterton,  quick  in  his  Movements, 
alert  now  like  some  Feline  on  the  prowl,  stepped 
immediately  in  front  of  Her,  facing  my  Lord  and 
screening  Her  against  his  Approach. 

"  Stand  back,  Man,"  he  commanded.  "  Stand 
back,  I  tell  You!  You  shall  not  come  nigh  Her 
save  on  bended  Knees,  with  Head  bowed  in  the 
Dust,  suing  for  Pardon  in  that  you  dared  to  Insult 
her." 

Everything  occurred  so  quickly,  Movements, 
Events,  High  Words,  threatening  Gestures  from 
both  sides,  followed  one  another  in  such  rapid  Suc- 
cession, that  I,  overcome  with  Agitation  and  the 
Effect  of  the  stunning  Blow  which  I  had  received, 
was  hardly  able  to  take  it  all  in.  Much  less  is  it  in 
my  Power  to  give  You  a  faithful  Account  of  it 
all.  Those  five  Minutes  were  the  most  spirit- 
stirring  ones  I  have  ever  experienced  throughout  my 
Life — every  Second  appeared  surcharged  with  an 
exciting  Fluid  which  transported  Me  to  supernal 
Regions,  to  Lands  of  Unrealities  akin  to  vivid 
Dreams. 

At  one  Moment,  I  remember  seeing  my  Lord 
Stour  make  a  rapid  and  furtive  movement  in  the 


302     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

direction  of  his  Sword,  which  lay  some  little  Dis- 
tance from  him  on  the  Ground,  but  Mr.  Betterton 
was  quicker  even  than  his  Foe,  more  alert,  and  with 
one  bound  he  had  reached  the  Weapon,  ere  my 
Lord's  Hand  was  nigh  it,  had  picked  it  up  and, 
with  a  terrific  Jerk,  broke  it  in  half  across  his  Knee. 
Then  he  threw  the  mangled  Hilt  in  one  direction,  the 
Point  in  another,  and  my  Lord  raised  his  Fists, 
ready,  methinks,  to  fly  at  his  Throat. 

But,  as  I  have  already  told  You,  dear  Mistress, 
the  whole  Episode  stands  but  as  a  confused  Mirage 
before  my  Mind;  and  through  it  all  I  seemed  to  see 
a  mere  Vision  of  her  Ladyship,  pale  and  ethereal, 
leaning  against  the  Angle  of  the  Bay;  one  delicate 
Hand  was  clutching  the  heavy  Curtain,  drawing 
it  around  her  as  it  were,  as  if  in  a  pathetic  and 
futile  Desire  to  shield  herself  from  view. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  GAME  OF  LOVE 


In  the  meanwhile,  the  Crowd  all  round  the  House 
had  visibly  swelled.  Some  People  were  still  stand- 
ing immediately  beneath  the  Bow-window,  whilst 
Others  swarmed  into  Tothill  Street;  the  foremost 
amongst  the  Latter  had  given  a  vigorous  Tug  at 
the  Bell-pull,  and  the  front  Door  being  opened  for 
them  by  the  bewildered  Servant,  they  had  made  a 
noisy  Irruption  into  the  House.  We  could  hear 
them  clattering  up  the  Stairs,  to  the  Accompaniment 
of  much  Laughing  and  Talking,  and  the  oft- 
reiterated  Refrain:  "Tom  Betterton  is  up  to  some 
Prank!  Hurrah!" 

Some  few  again,  more  venturesome  and  certainly 
more  Impudent  than  most,  had  indeed  succeeded  in 
scrambling  up  to  the  Window,  and,  one  after  an- 
other, Heads  and  Shoulders  began  to  appear  in  the 
Framework  of  the  open  Casements. 

Her  Ladyship  had  no  doubt  realized  from  the  first 
that  Escape  became  impossible,  within  two  Minutes 
of  Mr.  Betterton's  first  Summons  to  the  Public. 
Just  at  first,  perhaps,  if  my  Lord  had  preserved  his 
entire  Presence  of  Mind,  he  might  have  taken  her 
by  the  Hand  and  fled  with  Her  out  of  the  House, 

303 


304      HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

before  the  unruly  Crowd  had  reached  Tothill  Street. 
But  my  Lord,  blinded  by  jealous  Rage,  had  not 
thought  of  Her  quickly  enough,  and  now  the  Time 
was  past,  and  he  remained  impotent,  gasping  with 
Fury,  hardly  conscious  of  his  Actions.  He  had 
been  literally  swept  off  his  Feet  by  Mr.  Betterton's 
eagle-winged  coup  de  main,  which  left  him  puzzled 
and  the  prey  to  a  nameless  Terror  as  to  what  was 
about  to  follow. 

Now,  when  he  saw  a  number  of  Gentlemen  troop- 
ing in  by  the  Door,  he  could  but  stare  at  them  in 
utter  Bewilderment.  Most  of  these  Gallants  were 
personally  known  to  him:  Sir  William  Davenant 
was  in  the  forefront  with  Mr.  Thomas  Killigrew  of 
the  King's  Theatre,  and  the  Earl  of  Rochester  was 
with  them,  as  well  as  Mr.  Wycherley.  I  also  recog- 
nized Sir  Charles  Sedley  and  old  Sir  John  Denham, 
as  well  as  my  Lord  Roscommon,  among  the  crowd. 

They  had  all  rushed  in  through  the  Door,  laugh- 
ing and  jesting,  as  was  the  wont  of  all  these  gay 
and  courtly  Sparks;  but  at  sight  of  the  Lady  Bar- 
bara, they  halted.  Gibes  and  unseemly  Jokes  broke 
upon  their  Lips,  and  for  the  most  part  their  Hands 
went  up  to  their  Hats,  and  they  made  her  Ladyship 
a  deep  obeisance.  Indeed,  just  then  she  looked  more 
like  a  Wraith  than  a  living  Woman,  and  the  Light 
of  the  Candles,  which  flickered  wildly  in  the 
Draught,  accentuated  the  Weirdness  of  her  Appear- 
ance. 

"What  is  it,  Tom?  What  is  amiss?"  Sir 
William  Davenant  was  thus  the  first  to  speak. 


THE  GAME  OF  LOVE  305 

"  We  thought  You  were  playing  some  Prank." 

"  You  did  call  from  that  Window,  did  You  not, 
Tom  ?  "  my  Lord  Rochester  insisted. 

And  one  or  two  of  the  Gentlemen  nodded  some- 
what coldly  to  my  Lord  Stour. 

"  Yes.  I  did  call,"  Mr.  Betterton  replied,  quite 
firmly.  "  But  'twas  no  Whim  on  my  Part  thus  to 
drag  You  into  my  House.  It  was  not  so  much  my 
Voice  that  you  heard  as  the  Trumpet  blast  of 
Truth." 

At  this,  my  Lord  Stour  broke  into  one  of  those 
harsh,  mirthless  Fits  of  Laughter  which  betokened 
the  perturbation  of  his  Spirit. 

"  The  Truth !  "  he  exclaimed  with  a  cutting  Sneer. 
"From  You?" 

"  Aye !  the  Truth !  "  Mr.  Betterton  rejoined  with 
perfect  calm,  even  whilst  his  Friends  glanced, 
puzzled  and  inquiring,  from  my  Lord  Stour  to  him, 
and  thence  to  her  Ladyship's  pale  face,  and  even  to 
Me.  "  The  Truth,"  he  added  with  a  deep  Sigh  as 
of  intense  Relief;  "  The  Truth,  at  Last!  " 

He  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  Room,  with  one 
Hand  resting  upon  the  Desk,  his  Eyes  fixed  fear- 
lessly upon  the  Sea  of  Faces  before  him.  Not  the 
slightest  Tremor  marred  the  perfect  Harmony  of 
his  Voice,  or  the  firm  poise  of  his  manly  Figure. 
You  know  as  well  as  I  do,  dear  Mistress,  the  mar- 
vellous Magnetism  of  Mr.  Betterton's  Personality, 
the  Way  he  hath  of  commanding  the  Attention  of 
a  Crowd,  whenever  he  chooseth  to  speak.  Think  of 
him  then,  dear  Lady,  with  Head  thrown  back,  his 


306     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

exquisite  Voice  rising  and  falling  in  those  subtle 
and  impressive  Cadences  wherewith  he  is  wont  to 
hold  an  Audience  enthralled.  Of  a  truth,  no  experi- 
enced Manager  in  Stage-Craft  could  have  devised 
so  thrilling  an  Effect,  as  the  Picture  which  Mr. 
Betterton — the  greatest  Actor  of  this  or  of  any 
Time — presented  at  that  Moment,  standing  alone, 
facing  the  Crowd  which  was  thrilled  into  deadly 
Silence,  and  with  the  wraith-like  Figure  of  that  ex- 
quisitely beautiful  Woman  as  a  Foil  to  his  own  self- 
possessed,  virile  Appearance. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  began,  with  slow,  even  Em- 
phasis, "  I  pray  you  bear  with  me ;  for  what  I  have 
to  say  will  take  some  time  in  telling.  Awhile  ago  his 
Lordship  of  Stour  put  upon  me  such  an  Insult  as 
the  Mind  of  Man  can  hardly  conceive.  Then,  on 
the  Pretence  that  I  was  not  a  born  Gentleman  as 
he  was,  he  refused  me  Satisfaction  by  the  Sword. 
For  this  I  hated  him  and  swore  that  I  would  be  even 
with  him,  that  I  would  exact  from  his  Arrogance, 
Outrage  for  Outrage,  and  Infamy  for  Infamy." 
He  then  turned  to  my  Lord  Stour  and  spoke  to  him 
directly.  "You  asked  me  just  now,  my  Lord,  if 
my  Revenge  was  satisfied.  My  answer  to  that  is: 
not  yet!  Not  until  I  see  You  on  Your  bended 
Knees  here,  before  these  Gentlemen — my  Friends 
and  Yours — receiving  from  the  miserable  Mounte- 
bank whom  you  mocked,  the  pitiful  cur  whom  You 
thrashed,  that  which  you  hold — or  should  hold — 
more  precious  than  all  the  Treasures  of  this  earth : 
your  Honour  and  the  good  Name  of  the  Lady  who 


THE  GAME  OF  LOVE  307 

honours  You  with  her  Love !  Gentlemen !  "  he  went 
on,  and  once  more  faced  the  Crowd.  "  You  know 
the  Aspersions  which  have  been  cast  on  my  Lord 
Stour's  Loyalty.  Rumours  have  been  current  that 
the  late  aborted  Conspiracy  was  betrayed  by  him  to 
the  Countess  of  Castlemaine,  and  that  She  obtained 
his  Pardon,  whilst  all  or  most  of  his  Associates 
were  driven  into  Exile  or  perished  on  the  Scaffold. 
Well,  Gentlemen,  'twas  I  who  begged  for  my  Lord's 
pardon  from  the  Countess  of  Castlemaine.  His 
Degradation,  his  Obloquy,  was  the  Revenge  which 
I  had  studiously  planned.  Nay!  I  pray  you,  hear 
me  unto  the  End,"  he  continued,  as  a  loud  Murmur 
of  Horror  and  of  Indignation  followed  on  this  Self- 
Accusation.  "  My  Lord  Stour  is  no  Traitor,  save 
to  Her  whom  he  loves  and  whom  in  his  Thoughts 
he  hath  dared  to  outrage.  The  Lady  Barbara  Wych- 
woode  deigned  to  plead  with  me  for  the  Man  whom 
she  honoured  with  her  Love.  She  pleaded  with  me 
this  afternoon,  in  the  Park,  in  sight  of  many 
Passers-by;  but  I  in  my  Obstinacy  and  Arrogance 
would  not,  God  forgive  me,  listen  to  her." 

He  paused,  and  I  could  see  the  beads  of  Per- 
spiration glittering  upon  his  Forehead,  white  now 
like  Italian  Alabaster.  They  all  stood  before  him, 
subdued  and  silent.  Think  of  Sir  William 
Davenant,  dear  Mistress,  and  his  affection  for  Mr. 
Betterton ;  think  of  my  Lord  Roscommon  and  of  Sir 
Charles  Sedley  and  his  Lordship  of  Rochester, 
whose  Admiration  for  Mr.  Betterton's  Talent  was 
only  equalled  by  their  Appreciation  for  His  Worth ! 


308     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

It  was  before  them  all,  before  all  these  fastidious 
Gentlemen,  that  the  great  and  sensitive  Artist  had 
elected  to  humble  his  Pride  to  the  dust. 

But  you  shall  judge. 

"  Gentlemen,"  Mr.  Betterton  went  on  after  a 
brief  while ;  "  We  all  know  that  Love  is  a  Game 
at  which  one  always  cheats.  I  loved  the  Lady  Bar- 
bara Wychwoode.  I  had  the  presumption  to  dream 
of  her  as  my  future  Wife.  Angered  at  her  Scorn 
of  my  Suit,  I  cheated  her  into  coming  here  to-night, 
luring  her  with  the  Hope  that  I  would  consent  to 
right  the  Man  for  whose  sake  she  was  willing  to 
risk  so  much,  for  whom  she  was  ready  to  sacrifice 
even  her  fair  Name.  Now  I  have  learned  to  my 
hurt  that  Love,  the  stern  little  god,  will  not  be 
trifled  with.  When  we  try  to  cheat  him,  he  cheats 
us  worse  at  the  last;  and  if  he  makes  Kings  of  us, 
he  leaves  us  Beggars  in  the  End.  When  my  Lord 
Stour,  burning  with  sacrilegious  jealousy,  made 
irruption  into  my  Room,  the  Lady  Barbara  had 
just  succeeded  in  wringing  from  me  an  Avowal 
which  proclaimed  his  Integrity  and  my  Shame.  She 
was  about  to  leave  me,  humbled  and  crushed  in  my 
Pride,  she  herself  pure  and  spotless  as  the  Lilies, 
unapproachable  as  the  Stars." 


Mr.  Betterton  had  ceased  speaking  for  some  time ; 
nevertheless,  Silence  profound  reigned  in  the  dark, 
wainscotted  Room  for  many  seconds  after  the  final 
echo  of  that  perfect  Voice  had  ceased  to  reverberate. 


THE  GAME  OF  LOVE  309 

Indeed,  dear  Mistress,  I  can  assure  You  that,  though 
there  were  at  least  fifty  Persons  present  in  the 
Room,  including  those  unknown  to  Me  who  were 
swarming  around  the  Framework  of  the  Casements, 
you  might  have  heard  the  proverbial  Pin  drop  just 
then.  A  tense  Expression  rested  on  every  Face. 
Can  You  wonder  that  I  scanned  them  all  with  the 
Eagerness  born  of  my  Love  for  the  great  Artist, 
who  had  thus  besmirched  his  own  fair  Name  in 
order  to  vindicate  that  of  his  bitterest  Foe?  That 
I  read  Condemnation  of  my  Friend  in  many  a 
Glance,  I'll  not  deny,  and  this  cut  me  to  the  Quick. 

True!  Mr.  Betterton's  Scheme  of  Vengeance  had 
been  reprehensible  if  measured  by  the  high  Stand- 
ards of  Christian  Forbearance.  But  remember  how 
he  had  been  wronged,  not  once,  but  repeatedly;  and 
even  when  I  saw  the  Frown  on  my  Lord  Ros- 
common's  brow,  the  Look  of  Stern  Reproof  in  Sir 
Charles  Sedley's  Face,  there  arose  before  mine  Eyes 
the  Vision  of  the  great  and  sensitive  Artist,  of  the 
high-souled  Gentleman,  staggering  beneath  the 
Blows  dealt  by  a  band  of  hired  Ruffians  at  the  Bid- 
ding of  this  young  Coxcomb,  whose  very  Existence 
was  as  naught  in  the  Eyes  of  the  cultured  World 
beside  the  Genius  of  the  inimitable  Mr.  Betterton. 

I  said  that  the  Silence  was  tense.  Meseemed  that 
no  one  dared  to  break  it.  Even  those  idly  Curious 
who  had  swarmed  up  the  Rainpipes  of  this  House 
in  order  to  witness  one  of  Tom  Betterton's  Pranks, 
felt  awed  by  the  Revelation  of  this  Drama  of  a 
great  Man's  Soul.  Indeed,  the  Silence  became  pres- 


310     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

ently  oppressive.  I,  for  one,  felt  a  great  Buzzing 
in  mine  Ears.  The  Lights  from  the  Candles  as- 
sumed weird  and  phantasmagoric  Proportions  till 
they  seared  my  aching  Eyes. 

Then  slowly  my  Lord  Stour  approached  her  Lady- 
ship, sank  on  his  Knees  before  Her  and  raised  the 
Hem  of  her  Robe  to  his  Lips.  A  sob  broke  from 
her  Throat;  she  tried  to  smother  it  by  pressing  her 
Handkerchief  into  her  Mouth.  It  took  Her  a  second 
or  two  to  regain  her  Composure.  But  Breeding  and 
Pride  came  to  her  Aid.  I  saw  the  stiffening  of  her 
Figure,  the  studied  and  deliberate  Movement  where- 
with She  readjusted  her  Mantle  and  her  Veil. 

My  Lord  Stour  was  still  on  his  Knees.  At  a 
sign  from  her  Ladyship  he  rose.  He  held  out  his 
left  Arm  and  she  placed  her  right  Hand  on  it,  then 
together  they  went  out  of  the  Room.  The  Crowd  of 
Gentlemen  parted  in  order  to  make  way  for  the 
Twain,  then  when  they  had  gone  through,  some  of 
the  Gentlemen  followed  them  immediately;  others 
lingered  for  awhile,  hesitating.  Sir  William 
Davenant,  Mr.  Killigrew,  my  Lord  Rochester,  all 
of  Mr.  Betterton's  Friends,  appeared  at  first  inclined 
to  remain  in  order  to  speak  with  him.  They  even 
did  me  the  Honour  of  consulting  me  with  a  Look, 
asking  of  my  Experience  of  the  great  Actor  whether 
they  should  stay.  I  slowly  shook  my  Head,  and 
they  wisely  acted  on  my  Advice.  I  knew  that  my 
Friend  would  wish  to  be  alone.  He,  so  reserved, 
so  proud,  had  laid  his  Soul  bare  before  the  Public, 
who  was  wont  to  belaud  and  to  applaud  him.  The 


THE  GAME  OF  LOVE  311 

Humiliation  and  the  Effort  must  have  been  a  terrible 
Strain,  which  only  Time  and  Solitude  could  effec- 
tually cure. 

He  had  scarce  moved  from  his  Position  beside  the 
Desk,  still  stood  there  with  one  slender  Hand  rest- 
ing upon  it,  his  Gaze  fixed  vaguely  upon  the  Door 
through  which  his  Friends  were  slowly  filing  out. 

Within  two  minutes  or  less  after  the  Departure  of 
my  Lord  Stour  and  her  Ladyship,  the  last  of  the 
Crowd  of  Gentlemen  and  of  Idlers  had  gone.  Anon 
I  went  across  the  Room  and  closed  the  Door  behind 
them.  When  I  turned  again,  I  saw  that  the  knot  of 
quidnuncs  no  longer  filled  the  Casements,  and  a 
protracted  hum  of  Voices,  a  crackling  of  Ivy  twigs 
and  general  sound  of  Scrimmage  and  of  Scrambling 
outside  the  Window,  proclaimed  the  Fact  that  even 
they  had  had  the  Sense  and  the  Discretion  to  retire 
quietly  from  this  Spot,  hallowed  by  the  Martyrdom 
of  a  great  Man's  Soul. 

3 

Thus  I  was  left  alone  with  my  Friend. 

He  had  drawn  his  habitual  Chair  up  to  the  Desk 
and  sat  down.  Just  for  a  few  Moments  he  rested 
both  his  Elbows  on  the  Desk  and  buried  his  Face 
in  his  Hands.  Then,  with  that  familiar,  quick  little 
Sigh  of  His,  He  drew  the  Candles  closer  to  him  and, 
taking  up  a  Book,  he  began  to  read. 

I  knew  what  it  was  that  he  was  reading,  or, 
rather,  studying.  He  had  been  absorbed  in  the 
Work  many  a  time  before  now,  and  had  expressed 


312     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

his  ardent  Desire  to  give  public  Readings  of  it  one 
day  when  it  was  completed.  It  was  the  opening 
Canto  of  a  great  Epic  Poem,  the  manuscript  of 
which  had  been  entrusted  to  Mr.  Betterton  for 
Perusal  by  the  author,  Mr.  John  Milton,  who  had 
but  lately  been  liberated  from  prison  through  the 
untiring  Efforts  of  Sir  William  Davenant  on  his 
behalf.  Mr.  Milton  hoped  to  complete  the  Epic  in 
the  next  half-dozen  years.  Its  Title  is  "  Paradise 
Lost." 

I  remained  standing  beside  the  open  Window, 
loath  to  close  it  as  the  Air  was  peculiarly  soft  and 
refreshing.  Below  me,  in  the  Park,  the  idle,  chat- 
tering Crowd  had  already  dispersed.  From  far 
away,  I  still  could  hear  the  sweet,  sad  Strains  of  the 
amorous  Song,  and  through  the  Stillness  of  the 
Evening,  the  Words  came  to  mine  Ear,  wafted  on 
the  Breeze: 

"  You  are  my  Faith,  my  Hope,  my  All ! 

What  e'er  the  Future  may  unfold, 
No  trial  too  great — no  Thing  too  small. 

Your  whispered  Words  shall  make  me  bold 
To  win  at  last  for  Your  dear  Sake 

A  worthy  Place  in  Future's  World." 

I  felt  my  Soul  enwrapt  in  a  not  unpleasant 
reverie;  an  exquisite  Peace  seemed  to  have  de- 
scended on  my  Mind,  lately  so  agitated  by  Thoughts 
of  my  dear,  dear  Friend. 

Suddenly  a  stealthy  Sound  behind  Me  caused  me 
to  turn;  and,  in  truth,  I  am  not  sure  even  now  if 
what  I  saw  was  Reality,  or  the  Creation  of  mine 
own  Dreams. 


THE  GAME  OF  LOVE  313 

The  Lady  Barbara  had  softly  and  surreptitiously 
re-entered  the  Room.  She  walked  across  it  on  tip- 
toe, her  silken  Skirts  making  just  the  softest  possible 
frou-frou  as  she  walked.  Her  cloud-like  Veil 
wrapped  her  Head  entirely,  concealing  her  fair  Hair, 
and  casting  a  grey  Shadow  over  her  Eyes.  Mr. 
Betterton  did  not  hear  her,  or,  if  he  did,  he  did  not 
choose  to  look  up.  When  her  Ladyship  was  quite 
close  to  the  Desk,  I  noticed  that  she  had  a  Bunch 
of  white  Roses  in  her  Hand  such  as  are  grown  in 
the  Hot-houses  of  rich  Noblemen. 

For  a  few  Seconds  she  stood  quite  still.  Then 
she  raised  the  Roses  slowly  to  her  Lips,  and  laid 
them  down  without  a  word  upon  the  Desk. 

After  which,  she  glided  out  of  the  Room  as 
silently,  as  furtively,  as  she  came. 


And  thus,  dear  Mistress,  have  I  come  to  the  end 
of  my  long  Narrative.  I  swear  to  You  by  the  living 
God  that  everything  which  I  have  herein  related  is 
the  Truth  and  Naught  but  the  Truth. 

There  were  many  People  present  in  Mr.  Better- 
ton's  room  during  that  memorable  Scene,  when  he 
sacrificed  his  Pride  and  his  Revenge  in  order  to 
right  the  Innocent.  Amongst  these  Witnesses  there 
were  some,  whom  Malice  and  Envy  would  blind 
to  the  Sublimity  of  so  noble  an  Act.  Do  not  listen 
to  them,  honoured  Mistress,  but  rather  to  the 
promptings  of  your  own  Heart  and  to  that  unerring 


314     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

Judgment  of  Men  and  of  Events  which  is  the  At- 
tribute of  good  and  pure  Women. 

Mr.  Betterton  hath  never  forfeited  your  Esteem 
by  any  Act  or  Thought.  The  Infatuation  which  mo- 
mentarily dulled  his  Vision  to  all  save  to  the  Beauty 
of  the  Lady  Barbara,  hath  ceased  to  exist.  Its 
course  was  ephemeral  and  hath  gone  without  a 
Trace  of  Regret  or  Bitterness  in  its  wake.  The 
eminent  Actor,  the  high-souled  Artist,  whom  all 
cultured  Europe  doth  reverence  and  admire,  stands 
as  high  to-day  in  that  same  World's  Estimation  as 
he  did,  before  a  young  and  arrogant  Coxcomb  dared 
to  measure  his  own  Worth  against  that  of  a  Man 
as  infinitely  above  him  as  are  the  Stars.  But,  dear 
Mistress,  Mr.  Betterton  now  is  lonely  and  sad.  He 
is  like  a  Man  who  hath  been  sick  and  weary,  and  is 
still  groping  after  Health  and  Strength.  Take  pity 
on  his  Loneliness,  I  do  conjure  You.  Give  him  back 
the  inestimable  Boon  of  your  Goodwill  and  of  your 
Friendship,  which  alone  could  restore  to  him  that 
Peace  of  Mind  so  necessary  for  the  furtherance  of 
his  Art. 

And  if,  "during  the  Course  of  my  Narrative,  I 
have  seemed  to  you  over-presumptuous,  then  I  do 
entreat  your  Forgiveness.  Love  for  my  Friend  and 
Reverence  for  your  Worth  have  dictated  every 
Word  which  I  have  written.  If,  through  my 
Labours,  I  have  succeeded  in  turning  away  some 
of  the  just  Anger  which  had  possessed  your  Soul 
against  the  Man  whom,  I  dare  aver,  you  still  honour 
with  your  Love,  then,  indeed,  I  shall  feel  that  even 


THE  GAME  OF  LOVE  315 

so  insignificant  a  Life  as  mine  hath  not  been  wholly 
wasted. 

I  do  conclude,  dear  and  honoured  Mistress,  with 
a  Prayer  to  Almighty  God  for  your  Welfare  and 
that  of  the  Man  whom  I  love  best  in  all  the  World. 
I  am  convinced  that  my  Prayer  will  find  Favour 
before  the  Throne  of  Him  who  is  the  Father  of  us 
All.  And  He  who  reads  the  innermost  Secrets  of 
every  Heart,  knows  that  your  Welfare  is  coincident 
with  that  of  my  Friend.  Thus  am  I  content  to 
leave  the  Future  in  His  Hands. 

And  I  myself  do  remain,  dear  Mistress, 

Your  humble  and  obedient  Servant, 
JOHN  HONEYWOOD. 


EPILOGUE 

Ring  down  the  Curtain.  The  Play  is  ended. 
The  Actors  have  made  their  final  Bow  before  You 
and  thanked  You  for  your  Plaudits.  The  chief 
Player — a  sad  and  lonely  Man — has  for  the  nonce 
spoken  his  last  upon  the  Stage. 

All  is  Silence  and  Mystery  now.  The  Lights  are 
out.  And  yet  the  Audience  lingers  on,  loath  to 
bid  Farewell  to  the  great  Artist  and  to  his  minor 
Satellites  who  have  helped  to  wile  away  a  few  pleas- 
ant Hours.  You,  dear  Public,  knowing  so  much 
about  them,  would  wish  to  know  more.  You  wish 
to  know — an  I  am  not  mistaken — whether  the 
Labour  of  Love  wrought  by  good  Master  Honey- 
wood  did  in  due  course  bear  its  Fruitfulness.  You 
wish  to  know — or  am  I  unduly  self -flattered — 
whether  the  Play  of  Passion,  of  Love  and  of 
Revenge,  set  by  the  worthy  Clerk  before  You,  had 
an  Epilogue — one  that  would  satisfy  your  Sense  of 
Justice  and  of  Mercy. 

Then,  I  pray  You,  turn  to  the  Pages  of  History, 
of  which  Master  Honey  wood's  Narrative  forms  an 
integral  and  pathetic  Part.  One  of  these  Pages  will 
reveal  to  You  that  which  You  wish  to  know. 
Thereon  You  will  see  recorded  the  Fact  that,  after  a 

816 


EPILOGUE  317 

i 
brief  and  distinguished  Visit  during  that  Summer  to 

the  City  and  University  of  Stockholm,  where 
Honours  without  number  were  showered  upon  the 
great  English  Actor,  Mr.  Betterton  came  back  to 
England,  to  the  delight  of  an  admiring  Public, 
for  he  was  then  in  the  very  Plenitude  of  his 
Powers. 

Having  read  of  the  Artist's  triumph,  I  pray  You 
then  to  turn  over  the  Page  of  the  faithful  Chronicle 
of  his  Career,  and  here  You  will  find  a  brief  Chapter 
which  deals  with  his  private  Life  and  with  his 
Happiness.  You  will  see  that  at  the  End  of  this 
self -same  year  1662,  the  Register  of  St.  Giles', 
Cripplegate,  contains  the  Record  of  a  Marriage  be- 
tween Thomas  Betterton,  Actor,  of  the  parish 
of  St.  Margaret's,  Westminster,  and  Mary 
Joyce  Saunderson,  of  the  aforesaid  parish  of  St. 
Giles'. 

That  this  Marriage  was  an  exceptionally  happy 
one  we  know  from  innumerable  Data,  Minutes  and 
Memoranda  supplied  by  Downes  and  others;  that 
Master  John  Honeywood  was  present  at  the  Cere- 
mony itself  we  may  be  allowed  to  guess.  Those 
of  us  who  understand  and  appreciate  the  artistic 
Temperament,  will  readily  agree  with  the  worthy 
Clerk  when  he  said  that  it  cannot  be  judged  by  ordi- 
nary Standards.  The  long  and  successful  Careers 
of  Thomas  Betterton  and  of  Mistress  Saunderson 
his  Wife  testify  to  the  Fact  that  their  Art  in  no 
way  suffered,  while  their  Souls  passed  through  the 
fiery  Ordeal  of  Passion  and  of  Sorrow;  but  rather 


318     HIS  MAJESTY'S  WELL-BELOVED 

that  it  became  ennobled  and  purified,  until  they 
themselves  took  their  place  in  the  Heart  and 
Memory  of  the  cultured  World,  among  the 
Immortals. 


THE  END 


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